Trinity
by Alexiah Rose
Summary: He was hers. She was his. Yesterday may have been wonderful, but... today, everything is different.
1. Chapter 1

**Trinity**

**Chapter One**

Assumpta sat on her bed, hugging her knees. She watched the curtain dance in the breeze. It was too cold, but she couldn't summon the energy to walk over and close the window. Shivering, she looked away. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for somewhere safe to rest. There was no such place. He was everywhere.

The book he'd leant her.

The jacket he'd put around her shoulders on a late walk by the river.

The simple note he'd slipped under her door the day he went to Wicklow for his mandatory meeting with the Bishop.

_Get that look off your face.  
Remember my promise?  
I won't let you down._

It was strange, she thought. Just yesterday, these objects and the memories they held would have made her smile. Yesterday, the breeze would have been sweet, the air would have been light, the quiet would have been peaceful. The thought that Peter might walk in at any moment would have filled her with silly schoolgirl butterflies and smiles that simply would not concede to be wiped away. But today...

Everything was different.

Today, the memories wrung her heart like a dishcloth. Today, the breeze was ice against her skin, the air was grey, the silence was suffocating. Today, she hoped that Peter wouldn't come.

She brought her head to rest on her knees. She closed her eyes. She begged herself not to cry. She had to stay composed, in case Peter came. She had to let him think that everything was okay. She couldn't tell him. Not today. She couldn't tell him what she'd done.

She thought of his note, of his words by the river.  
_I won't let you down._

He hadn't. He'd been wonderful... even better than she'd imagined he would be. Sure, the last eight days had been hard – dealing with Father Mac, the Bishop, the shocked congregation... Peter had barely been around. But when he came, he would touch her face, quell her fears, whisper love. He would make her forget why she'd been mad at him all day, and it was infuriating but it was beautiful.

In all the chaos, Peter had never once wavered, had never shown any doubts, had never let her feel like she was anything less than everything. She had never dreamed of being so loved.

No, Peter hadn't let her down.  
But she had let everyone down.

* * *

She was so close to being asleep that she didn't hear Peter enter the room. He sat down on the bed, and gently placed his hand on her arm.

'Hey, gorgeous.'  
He spoke only softly, but Assumpta jumped about three feet into the air.  
'God, you scared me,' she breathed, clutching her chest.  
Peter smiled. 'Sorry... You look exhausted. Hard day?'  
'Yeah.'  
Assumpta now sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at her hands folded in her lap.  
'Well,' said Peter brightly, 'I know just the thing to cheer you up. I've got a surprise.'

_Yeah,_ Assumpta thought humourlessly, _me too. _

When she didn't say anything, Peter continued, somewhat warily. 'I know we haven't got to spend much time alone together... So I've asked Niamh, and she said she'll manage on her own tonight. We're going for a picnic.'  
_A picnic._  
'At Cill na Sidh.'  
_Cill na Sidh.  
No._

She looked up at Peter, just for a second. His eager smile nearly broke her heart. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't spend the night alone with him. She couldn't pretend for that long. Especially not there... not with so many memories. The fire, his touch, their ragged breath. The next day, the tears, her decision...

She jumped up, and headed for the door.  
'Assumpta?'  
Confused, Peter followed her down the stairs.  
'Assumpta, are you okay?'  
'I'm fine, Peter; I just... I can't do a picnic tonight, okay?'

Face fallen, Peter stopped dead with three stairs still to go. He had been planning this for days. It was going to be perfect. Just the two of them, alone, with no one to interrupt but their old friend the owl. He had imagined her relaxed, smiling, snuggling up to him against the cold. He had imagined telling her that he loved her, and finally hearing her say the same to him in return. He had imagined –

Peter's despondent thoughts were interrupted by a loud clang as Assumpta, now acting busy in the kitchen, dropped a pan. He braved the rest of the stairs and spoke to the back of Assumpta's head as she leaned over the sink. 'What's going on, Assumpta?'  
'Nothing. I just have work to do.'  
'Well... Can't it wait?'  
'No, Peter, it can't.'  
'But I have everything planned.'  
His voice was so small. Assumpta could feel his disappointment. She didn't want to hurt him, but how else could she get him to give up on this picnic idea? She bit her lip, struggling to keep her voice steady. 'I hear Brendan's fishing this evening. Why don't you join him?' she offered weakly.  
Hurt and confused, Peter screwed up his face. 'I don't want to go fishing with Brendan. I want to spend time with you.'  
'Well, I just can't tonight, okay? I have too much to do.'  
'Fine,' Peter said bitterly, 'Well, I'd offer to stay and help with all this work, but somehow I get the feeling you'd prefer to be left alone.'

As he turned to walk out, Peter saw Assumpta's shoulders shake, and knew she was fighting tears. His bitterness immediately faded into concern. Something was wrong here. But he knew Assumpta. He could see that she wasn't going to tell him. Not today. She needed time, and she needed to know...

He walked gingerly up to her, placing his hand firmly in the small of her back. He kissed her hair. 'I love you,' he whispered.  
'Yeah.' Assumpta let out a shaky breath. 'I love you too.'

* * *

Walking away from Fitzgerald's, Peter's heart was heavy. That wasn't how he had wanted Assumpta's first 'I love you' to go. That wasn't how he had wanted the night to go. He had wanted...

He placed his cold hand inside his warm pocket, and fumbled the small velvet box.

Not today.


	2. Chapter 2

****_I'm a little nervous about this. As far as I've seen, no one else has ever gone here... Maybe there's a reason for that! Haha but let's just see what happens ;)_

**Chapter Two**

'Ah, Peter,' Brendan said brightly as his temporary lodger trundled into the kitchen, 'Can I interest you in some breakfast?'  
'Yeah, thanks.'  
Peter smiled weakly as he sat down at the small table. He rubbed his eyes, which were red and sore from lack of sleep. After adding some extra bacon to the pan, Brendan turned and fixed Peter with a cheeky grin and two twinkling eyes.  
'Now, to be honest, Peter, I wasn't expecting to have to feed you this morning. When I didn't hear you come in last night, I just _assumed_ you were spending the night in her ladyship's lair...'  
'Well, you assumed wrong.'  
'Oh?'  
Peter tried to keep his tone casual as he explained, 'You didn't hear me come in because I got back before you did.'  
Brendan merely looked confused.  
'We didn't go for the picnic,' Peter bluntly clarified.  
'And why not?'  
Peter shrugged as he stood to fetch some juice from the fridge, wanting to escape Brendan's inquisitive gaze. 'Assumpta had too much work to do.'  
Brendan raised his eyebrows, clearly no more convinced by this line than Peter himself had been. 'On a Thursday night?' he asked doubtfully.  
'Yes,' Peter stated with finality as he poured his juice.  
Furrowing his brow, Brendan couldn't resist prodding the young man just a little further. 'But weren't you going to...'  
'Just leave it alone Brendan, okay?'  
Reluctantly, Brendan did, and the pair ate their breakfast in somewhat awkward silence.

* * *

Assumpta tossed and turned between tangled sheets.

_How could you do this to me?_

Peter's face was flushing red, contorted with rage.

_I threw my whole life away for you! I should have known you weren't worth it. _

She was crying, begging him to understand.

_You bitch._

She knew she was dreaming. She had to be. She sank to the floor and closed her eyes, willing herself to wake.

She did so with a desperate cry.  
'Peter!'  
She felt someone gently grip her hand.  
'Shhhh, it's okay.'  
Niamh's voice was soothing, as though she were speaking to Kieran. She stroked her best friend's hair. 'It was only a dream.'  
Assumpta sat up, and wiped the tears from her burning cheeks.  
'Oh, Niamh,' she breathed anxiously, searching in her friend's eyes for help she could not give.  
'Assumpta, what's going on?'  
Assumpta merely shook her head.  
'Come on, Assumpta. We've been friends all our lives; I know something's wrong.'  
Assumpta sighed. She knew there was no use in pretending.  
'I can't tell you, Niamh. I wish I could, but I can't. Not yet.'  
Niamh was disappointed, maybe even angry, but still she remained there, holding Assumpta's hand.

'What are you doing here anyway?' Assumpta asked after a few moments of silence.  
'Working.'  
'This early?'  
'It's eleven o'clock – opening time...'  
'What?!'  
Assumpta jumped out of bed, and went to race downstairs.  
'It's fine,' Niamh called, 'I've done everything. I thought it was best to let you sleep. You looked knackered last night.'  
'Oh... Thanks.'

Niamh left to open the bar, while a grateful Assumpta went to shower and dress. As she did so, she tried not to think about her dream.

Naturally, all she did was think about it.

* * *

On the way to Cilldargan, Peter drove past Fitzgerald's. He desperately wanted to stop and go in, to distract Assumpta from the sandwiches she'd be making, to say something stupid and kiss her while she laughed at him. He wanted to satisfy himself that everything was okay – that she was just in one of her moods last night and the problem didn't run any deeper than that.

But he couldn't stop; he had to be in Cilldargan for a meeting with Father Mac. The final meeting, to be precise. This afternoon, he would sign the last of his paperwork to be sent to Rome. After today, discounting a month's worth of paper pushing, he was free.

Free to marry Assumpta Fitzgerald. Free to hold her and kiss her without any traces of guilt. Free to threaten any bloke who tries it on with her in the bar. Free to weave his way into the deepest part of her heart. And free to find out what was troubling her, and to fix it.

* * *

The day passed in a whir as Assumpta kept up a constant stream of activity, the noises of the pub sounding like a helicopter in her ears. Dread continually tried to creep up and snatch her from behind, but years of trying to keep Peter from her mind had her well trained in forcing her thoughts to white noise.

But at a quiet moment when Assumpta stood alone in the near silence of the kitchen, with Padraig's pasta simmering on the stove, panic seized its opportunity. It swooped down and gripped her by the shoulders. It shook her, and she struggled to breathe.

She knew that every passing second brought her closer to the time when she would have to tell Peter, and she honestly didn't think she could do it. She wanted to bolt. She decided to bolt. But she just couldn't move. She was trapped there, feet planted on the ground, eyes staring unseeing as the pasta boiled over and began to spill onto the floor.

'Assumpta!' Niamh cried as she rushed to remove the overflowing saucepan.  
Shaken halfway back to reality, Assumpta stared, open mouthed, as Niamh tried to clean up her mess.

Clean up her mess...

'Niamh, I...' Assumpta stammered as nausea overwhelmed her.

She ran across the room. She threw up in the sink.

* * *

Minutes later, she stood in the bathroom upstairs. Having cleaned herself up, she now stared at her pale, tired reflection in the mirror. She wondered how Peter always found her so beautiful. The thought made her want to cry, but she clenched her fists.

_No._

She would not allow it. She would not allow herself to become pathetic, to mope and wallow and to hide away from the consequences of her actions. She had to be strong.

Now, more than ever, Assumpta had to be strong.

She walked back downstairs determined to be ready, determined to be fine.

And there he was, in the kitchen.

That was appropriate, she thought. They always had their painful conversations in the kitchen. Her kitchen, his kitchen, Niamh's kitchen... Never the beautiful conversations; those were done outside. But in the kitchen, someone always cried. And tonight was no exception.

'Hiya,' Peter smiled as he stepped forward to plant a kiss on her forehead.  
Assumpta allowed herself to smile back. Though she didn't deserve them, she wanted to take just a few more moments of Peter. Before she ruined everything.  
Peter pulled a yellow envelope out from behind his back, and handed it to her.  
'What's this?'  
'Open it.'  
As she did so, he explained, 'I had my final meeting with Father Mac today.'  
Startled, Assumpta's eyes shot up to his face. 'Oh, Peter, I completely forgot!'  
'It's okay.'

It wasn't okay. Assumpta had thought about this day for a long time. Even before she and Peter were together, she'd imagined what she'd do the day he finally left the priesthood. She was going to go to Cilldargan, to wait outside Father Mac's and surprise him. She was going to take him to Liesel's, her favourite coffee place. They were going to walk down the street, hand in hand, unashamed, together.

But she had forgotten. For the second time in twenty-four hours, she had let him down. And she was about to make it a hat-trick.

'They had me keep a copy of my final paperwork,' Peter was saying, 'I want you to have it, so you'll always know how much you mean to me and know that I'll never regret choosing you.'  
And with that, he took her by the waist and pulled her close to him. He kissed her slowly and deeply, trying so hard to communicate the feelings to which words just didn't do justice. Assumpta returned his kiss, holding tightly to him.

Peter took this as reassurance that everything was okay again.  
Mistake number one.

When he released her, Assumpta winced.

_Don't let me go._

'You okay?' he asked, gently running his hand down her cheek and along her chin.  
She closed her eyes for a moment, memorising the feel of his touch. Then she took a deep breath, and opened her eyes into his.  
'I need to tell you something.'  
'Ah,' Peter responded softly, 'Would this have anything to do with you blowing me off last night?'  
Assumpta nodded.

Peter took both her hands in his, and moved backward so he was sitting on the table, his eyes now almost level with hers. His gaze was strong. He was a free man - _her_ man. He was ready for this, he thought, whatever it was.  
Mistake number two.

When Assumpta spoke, her voice was small. But it didn't matter; they were standing mere inches apart, their hands clasped together and resting on his knees.  
'Before I do this Peter, I just need you to know that I love you, and that these days with you have been the most wonderful days of my life.'  
'Mine too,' he reassured her, smiling.  
At the sight of his breathtaking crooked smile, Assumpta's first tear fell.  
'And I need you to know,' she continued, 'that I'm so sorry.'

Heart melting at the fear in her eyes, Peter squeezed Assumpta's hands.

This gesture provided that last ounce of courage she needed to breathe those two words.

Two small words with the power to change so many lives.

Two words.

'I'm pregnant.'


	3. Chapter 3

****_Ach, I had thought to shock and amaze you all with my revelation, but apparently you can read me like a book :P  
Oh well. Read on, friends..._

_Just a little background note before you begin: Assumpta and Leo weren't married in my version. Although, clearly, they acted rather like they were._

**Chapter Three**

Assumpta watched in trepidation as Peter blinked stupidly.  
'Pregnant? Well, you can't be. W... We never...'  
'No, Peter,' she said quietly, '_we_ didn't.'

After a long moment during which he tried to swallow the iron lump rising in his throat, Peter spoke one word.  
'Leo.'

He spoke the other man's name with more loathing than ever before. And, as he did so, he let go of Assumpta's hands. Stung, she took a step back from him. Peter stood up and began to pace around the room, bringing his hands to his mouth, his temples, his hair. He moved in frantic jolts. Watching him, Assumpta felt dizzy and slightly nauseous. When she could stand it no longer, she implored him, 'Say something.'

'What do you want me to say, Assumpta?' He wasn't shouting, exactly, but he was quite worked up and extremely sarcastic. '"Congratulations"? "I'm so happy that you're having another man's child"?'  
'No...' Her voice was no more than a whisper.  
'Well, what then? I mean, how am I supposed to respond to this?'

Assumpta was silent. She stared at her hands.  
How was he supposed to respond? She had no idea.

'I've got to go.'

Assumpta heard the noise of the bar seep through into the kitchen as Peter opened the door. She heard it stifled again as the door swung shut behind him. She did not look up. She sank down into a chair. Her eyes fell upon the yellow envelope, lying abandoned on the table. The words from her dream echoed inside her head.

_I threw my whole life away for you. I should have known you weren't worth it. _

She brought her head to rest on her folded arms upon the tabletop, and, as predicted, Assumpta cried.

Before long, Niamh was there. She placed a reassuring hand on Assumpta's back.  
'Peter just walked through the pub... He looked like he'd just lost his best friend... Assumpta, what -'  
'I'm pregnant, Niamh,' Assumpta spoke into the tabletop before her friend could phrase the question.  
Niamh was unable to keep the shock from draining her face, and she was glad Assumpta couldn't see it.  
'Is it... Is it Peter's?' she asked hesitantly.  
Assumpta lifted her head from the table and fixed Niamh with a – somewhat teary – are-you-stupid look.  
'Niamh, do you think he would have been storming out of here with that look on his face if it were his?'  
'No... right.'

At a loss for any helpful words, Niamh resorted to the timeless classic.  
'Do you want a cup of tea?'

* * *

Sitting by the river, tired of throwing stones, Peter put his head in his hands. He knew he was a coward for walking out of there. He knew he had hurt her. But what else could he have done? He couldn't talk to her; his thoughts and feelings refused to form words. Had he stayed, he'd only have made things worse.

If that were possible.

Lying back on the river bank, Peter searched the stars for the good in this. He wondered if God was punishing him. But why? He had tried so hard to do everything right – to do right by God, the Church, Assumpta.

Assumpta...

She must be so scared.

His heart broke and his arms ached for her, but still he didn't go back to Fitzgerald's. He told himself it was because it was late; he convinced himself that she would be sleeping. But if he was honest, if he was truly honest with himself, he was angry with her.

When he left to go on retreat, she had wasted no time in running to Leo. She had let him into her in a way Peter had never been. More than that, she had brought him here to Ballykissangel to do it right under Peter's nose. And now she was having Leo's baby.

Standing up, Peter threw one last stone into the river. As it sliced through the still water, it screamed in the silence of the night. Peter imagined it slowly sinking to the bottom as he walked away.

* * *

Two insufferable birds chirped outside the window as Assumpta held the phone in shaking hands. The last eighteen hours had been awful. She figured things could hardly get any worse. She had told Peter; she had told Niamh... Now it was time for the final hurdle.

Really, she should have told him first. She knew that. This baby, after all, was his. His and hers. But she was scared – scared that he'd be happy, and scared that he wouldn't. Scared that this would make him forget all that passed between them, and scared that he'd remember.

She remembered.

She remembered the night. It had been a last ditch effort to convince Leo, to convince herself, that everything was okay. It had also been the final straw. She had called him by Peter's name.

She wasn't sure if it was the memory of the night or the very real result of it, but something made her sick again. By the time she returned from the bathroom, she had decided that this wouldn't do. She couldn't tell Leo like this. He deserved more. She'd have to go and see him. Today.

* * *

When the same phone rang about an hour later, Assumpta hoped it would be Niamh calling to confirm that she could come in early and look after the pub for the day. Instead, an anxious Peter spoke gently from the other end.

'Can we talk?'

* * *

The statue stared down at them in either compassion or disapproval – Assumpta wasn't sure which. The first time they'd stood here, Peter was on the verge of being sent back to England. Though they had only known each other "five minutes" at that time, Assumpta had dreaded the thought of facing a life without him. The same fear reigned in her heart today.

'I'm sorry I walked out on you last night.'  
'It's okay. You were in shock. I understand.'

They stood feet apart, staring at one another in silence, reading exhausted desperation in each other's eyes.

Peter let out a defeated sigh.  
'What are we gonna do, Assumpta?'  
Assumpta heard herself scoff, and was not entirely surprised.  
'We?' she said cynically, tilting her head to one side. 'Peter, it's not _your _baby.'  
Indignant, Peter felt his muscles tense.  
'Yes, I realise that, Assumpta, but you are _my_ girlfriend.'  
In the heavy silence that ensued, both were thinking how inadequate the term 'girlfriend' was to describe what she was to him, what they were to each other.

'Fine,' Peter submitted, 'What are you going to do?'  
Assumpta bit her lip. This gesture normally made Peter's body itch with desire, but today it only made him nervous. At length, Assumpta spoke.

'I think I'm going to marry Leo.'

Tears pricked Peter's eyes. Though he had anticipated her decision, and though his head knew very well that it was the right thing to do, the infatuated boy in his heart just refused to accept that he couldn't have her. He knew he sounded pitiful, but he didn't care.  
'I don't want you to,' he whispered.  
'I don't want to either,' she whispered back, moving closer to him, longing to take his hand, 'but it's what's right. You know it is.'  
Almost imperceptibly, he nodded.  
'I'm sorry, Peter.'

Assumpta turned to walk away before she could cause this wonderful man any more undeserved pain. But he called after her.  
'I was going to propose to you.'  
She whirled around.  
'What?'  
'That night, at Cill na Sidh. I had a ring and everything.'

It was like every beat of Assumpta's heart just pumped more pain through her body. How much more could she take?

'I'm sorry, Peter.'  
Peter continued to speak, his face growing redder and his voice louder with every broken dream he recited.  
'I was going to marry you, Assumpta Fitzgerald. And we were going to be so happy. We were going to defy everyone, and we were going to be perfect forever. I was going to wake up every single day and tell you that you're beautiful and that you're loved. I was going to make love to you and make you feel exactly what you are to me. And _we_ were going to have children, you and me, Assumpta. And -'  
Assumpta was crying now, and she couldn't take any more.  
'Please, stop,' she begged him, breathing hard, 'I'm sorry.'  
'For God's sake, will you stop saying sorry! It isn't your fault!'  
'Then why are you shouting at me?!'

Assumpta bowed her head and began to sob. Peter didn't even think for a second before he was there, enfolding her in his arms. He rubbed her back, and spoke into her hair.  
'Oh, don't cry... Sweetheart, don't cry. Everything's going to be okay. You're strong, Assumpta. You're the strongest person I've ever known. You'll be fine. You'll be fine.'  
Assumpta clung to him, not believing a word he said.

At length, when her breathing steadied, she pulled away just far enough to look up at Peter's face.  
'I know what we'll do,' she told him.  
'What's that?' he asked softly.  
'We'll take one night... Just one night, and we'll do everything. Everything we've wanted to do and say since we met. All of it.'  
'Assumpta...'  
'No, listen to me. We managed to fit an entire love story into a few glances, some sarcastic comments and a polar bear joke. Peter, if anyone can fit an entire lifetime of happiness into one night, it's us.'  
She looked eagerly into his eyes, and even managed a small smile as she asked, 'What do you say?'  
Like so many times before, Peter was powerless to resist her. And, really, why would he want to?

'Tomorrow?' he suggested.  
'Tomorrow.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Dublin traffic had never been more irritating. It was 1pm for heaven's sake. Shouldn't these people be eating or something? Assumpta wondered how she had ever managed to put up with this when she was at uni. But things were different then; she wasn't pregnant and flustered and _starving._

As she finally pulled off into the quieter streets of Leo's area, Assumpta was hit by the sudden thought that he might not be at home. What would she do if he wasn't? Go to his office and tell him there? Let herself in and wait for him to get home? Go back to Ballykea and spend a few more days hiding from the problem?

Probably the last one. But it didn't matter; he was there.

Assumpta pulled into the driveway behind Leo's car. Getting out, she shot a big fake smile to nosy Mrs Quinn who was pruning her roses next door. Assumpta felt her heart begin to pound as she made her way up the front steps. She pressed the doorbell quickly, before she had the chance to change her mind.

The door swung open, and there he was. Dark jeans, red shirt, bewildered expression. He just stared at her. She rolled her eyes.  
'"_Hello Assumpta. Come in, Assumpta. Would you like a cup of tea and a biscuit, Assumpta?" _Yes, I would, thank you, Leo.'  
She pushed past, leaving him standing dumbfounded in his doorway. Only when he caught the twinkling eye of Mrs Quinn across the fence did he turn and walk into the house. He found Assumpta in the kitchen, helping herself to his chocolate biscuits as she boiled the kettle. Noticing that she had two mugs out, Leo finally found his words.  
'I don't want a cup of tea.'  
'You'll need one,' came her simple reply.  
Leo only raised his eyebrows and watched her make the tea. He noticed her hands shaking as she added his two spoonfuls of sugar.  
'Assumpta, are you okay?'  
In reply, she handed him his mug and led the way into the sitting room. Warily, he followed her, and sat in the chair opposite hers. He placed his tea on the coffee table; she cradled hers in her hands. He looked at her expectantly, but she only stared into her mug.  
'Assumpta, what's going on? What are you doing here?'  
'Oh, you know, hiding from the Gestapo.'  
'Don't deflect with jokes, Fitzgerald. That's my job.'  
Too right.  
She took a sip of her tea and a deep breath. She looked him straight in the eyes.  
'I'm pregnant, Leo.'  
Leo's eyes widened, but he barely missed a beat.  
'Are you sure it's mine?'  
'Yes, I'm sure it's yours,' she spat.  
'But are you really sure? You're not getting me confused with your over-friendly local curate? Only, it wouldn't be the first time, would it? It must be quite taxing, keeping two blokes on the go.'  
Assumpta could feel herself firing up.  
'I was _not_ keeping two...' She clenched her teeth. She hadn't come here to get into another pointless fight about this. She looked Leo squarely in the face. 'It's yours,' she said firmly.

At this point, Leo downed his cup of tea so quickly that it must have scalded his throat.  
'Told you you'd need it.'  
Leo gave a weak laugh. He stood to take his mug back into the kitchen. After a couple of minutes, Assumpta followed, and she found him leaning with his back against the counter.  
'So what happens now?' he asked.  
Assumpta sighed. 'Well, what do you want?'  
'What do _I_ want?'  
'Yeah.'  
Leo let his shoulders sag in a gesture of abandoning all pretence of anger, letting down all defences.  
'I want the same thing I've always wanted, Assumpta,' he said softly, 'I want to be with you.'  
Slowly, Assumpta nodded. 'Okay,' she said.  
_'Okay?'_ repeated a disbelieving Leo.  
Again, Assumpta nodded.  
Leo regarded her sceptically. 'You want to be with me?'  
'Yes.'  
'What about Father McLover-Boy?'  
Assumpta winced. Concentrating all her effort on keeping the searing pain from her voice, she managed to simply state, 'He doesn't come into it.'

Silence followed, and Assumpta had no idea what Leo was thinking. His eyes didn't show his heart, she thought, not like Peter's did. At length, he spoke, his voice full of care and concern.  
'And you've seen a doctor? Everything's all right?'  
'Yeah. I mean, it's really early on, but as far as Doc Ryan can tell, everything's great.'  
Warily, she smiled at Leo, and he smiled back. He walked over and lightly brushed a hand against her stomach before wrapping his arms around her.

* * *

Seeing that she was exhausted from her whirlwind trip to Dublin, Niamh had sent Assumpta to bed hours ago. But it was now past closing time, and Assumpta hadn't even pulled back her covers. If she stopped working, she might have to think. If she stood still, she might have to feel. If she looked too hard, she might realise that the ground had fallen from beneath her feet. She might come crashing down.

So she packed.

She packed for Dublin. She packed for Leo's.

And, whenever the packing got too difficult and reality tried to sneak up on her, she'd look at the dress. She had bought it that day, before she left Dublin. She had bought it because, for the next 36 hours at least, she had an escape from reality; she had her fairytale, her one night with the man she loved. For the next day and a half, that was her truth, and she wouldn't let anything ruin it.

Her truth was white and silky, with a black lace overlay. And it was really very short. In different circumstances, she'd have been shy about wearing something so revealing, but there was no time to be shy. She had one night to give him what she'd wanted to spend a lifetime giving him...

Her silent contemplation of the dress was interrupted by the phone. She moved to pick up the receiver beside her bed.  
'Fitzgerald's.'  
'Clifford's.'  
She could hear the smile in Peter's voice. He thought he was so clever.  
'Hey,' she said warmly.  
'Hi. How are you?'  
'Oh, you know...'  
'Yeah, me too.' Then, after a pause, 'How did go with Leo?'  
'Do you really want to know?'  
'No,' he admitted, 'I just...wanted an excuse to hear your voice.'  
Assumpta smiled a smile that would have floored him if he'd been there to see it.  
'You don't need an excuse, Peter.'  
'Assumpta...'  
_'Can I come over?'_ he wanted to ask. But he wasn't sure. Did she want him there? Would it ruin the magic of tomorrow night if he went there now? He just really missed her. God, it hadn't even been one day and he already missed her. How was he going to survive when...?  
'What?' Assumpta asked, and Peter wondered how long he'd been silent.  
'Nothing. Just... I love you.'  
Something about those words sapped Assumpta of her little remaining strength, and she collapsed onto the bed. She heard herself speak the words before her mind could object.  
'Peter, will you come over?'

* * *

Peter stood at the back door wearing a smile that Assumpta knew he had forced onto his face just for her, to make her feel better. Heart warming, she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly.

'Hi,' he said as she pulled away, his smile a little more genuine now.  
'Hi yourself. Coffee?'  
'Love one.' Then, noticing how tired she looked, he took the coffee from her hands. 'Let me.'

They took their coffees to the sofa, and Peter added wood to the dying fire. While they drank, Assumpta told Peter what had happened with Leo. Better to get it over with today, she thought, than to put a taint on tomorrow. Sitting beside her, Peter listened very quietly, his hand absently stroking her knee. When she finished, he said, 'So it's settled then? You're really going?'  
Assumpta nodded. 'Peter, you know I love you. But I have to do what's right... for the baby.'  
'I know,' Peter whispered, his eyes swimming in tears.  
'Peter, I'm s-'  
He reached over and put a finger to her lips before she could say it. He moved his hand to her chin and lifted it so he could kiss her. Then he leaned back on the sofa and opened his arms to her. Assumpta snuggled into his chest, and fell asleep there by the firelight.

After a while, Peter gently lifted her and carried her upstairs. He laid her in her bed. He desperately wanted to stay with her, but it wasn't right. Tomorrow, nothing on earth could keep him away. But tonight... He kissed her softly on her forehead. 'Goodnight, Assumpta.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Assumpta twirled in front of the mirror, stopping to spray one disobedient strand of hair. She checked the clock. 6:07. She smiled as she imagined Peter downstairs, leaning against the bar, waiting for her. She was almost dizzy with anticipation and hairspray fumes. She was determined not to let any black clouds follow her this evening. Tonight was going to be perfect, and that was that.

Deciding she had left him waiting long enough, Assumpta applied a fresh layer of lip gloss, grabbed her bag and headed down into the bar. Peter was waiting at the bottom of the stairs by the reception desk, but his back was turned. Many nights of sneaking out as a teenager had Assumpta well trained in walking silently in heels on the carpeted stairs, and Peter didn't even know she was behind him until she spoke.

'Hey, handsome. Come here often?'  
He whirled around to look at her, and had to grab hold of the desk to steady himself. He looked her up and down in such a way that would have earned anyone else a hard slap in the face.  
'Oh my God,' he breathed.  
'What?' asked Assumpta coyly, 'Do I have something on my dress?'  
'Oh my God,' Peter repeated, moving to close the gap between them. Placing her hands on his crisp, white shirt, Assumpta held him off.  
'Oi! You're getting a bit ahead of yourself there, mister. See, you're supposed to wait until the _end_ of the night to kiss me.'  
'Oh, like hell,' Peter grinned, pulling her into a deep kiss.

When eventually they broke apart, Assumpta grabbed her coat from the rack and draped it over her arm. With his hand in the small of her back, Peter led her through the pub. Naturally, Assumpta's rather extraordinary attire elicited no undue amount of wolf-whistles and other exclamations from Padraig, Liam and the other frequenters of Fitzgerald's. Blushing, Assumpta told them all to shut it or they're barred, but Peter, exceedingly pleased to be the one bestowed with the affections of this beautiful and coveted creature, merely shot them a proud grin and said, 'Mind you don't drool all over the bar mats there, boys.' And he led Assumpta out to the car.

Peter opened the car door, but Assumpta didn't get in. She stood staring at the black Javelin.  
'So this is what priests do to impress girls on dates, is it? Resurrect the dead?'  
Peter chuckled. 'It's not the same one,' he explained. 'See, whenever I thought about taking you out, I always imagined taking you in the Javelin. And since tonight is about doing the things we've always wanted to do... I hired one.'  
Assumpta raised her eyebrows. 'But you're an unemployed ex-priest. How can you afford...?'  
'Will you just get in the car?'

'Where are we going?' Assumpta asked as the beautiful old car made its way out of the village.  
'Wicklow,' Peter answered. 'But first, we need to lay down some rules.'  
Assumpta looked over at him. She could see a smile teasing the corners of his mouth as he tried to act serious.  
'Rules, Father Clifford? Really?'  
'Yes. The rules are as follows. Rule number one: your wish is my command.'  
'Ah. I think I might like these rules.'  
The smile tugged a little harder on Peter's lips as his continued. 'Rule number two: my wish is your command.'  
Assumpta laughed out loud at this, and Peter gave the smile its victory as he glanced over at her.  
'And rule number three,' he went on, more seriously, 'No tears. Tomorrow, we might cry, but tonight...' He reached over and took her hand. 'Tonight, I don't want to see anything but smiles on that gorgeous face of yours. Do you agree to abide by the rules, Miss Fitzgerald?'  
'I do.'

* * *

'I'm hungry now,' Assumpta stated as they neared the city.

'Well, we're just about there,' replied Peter, though he almost wished they weren't – he had been enjoying listening to Assumpta singing along to the radio.  
'Where are you taking me, anyway?'  
'Just an Italian place I discovered.'  
Assumpta bit her lip. 'It's not Gianni's is it?'  
'No... Why?'  
'Oh, um. That's where Enda Sullivan took me.'  
Peter snorted. 'I still can't believe you went out with that idiot.'  
'Yeah, well,' Assumpta said meaningfully, 'Around here, you just have to take what you can get.'  
'Oh, is that right?'  
'Yes, it is. Why else would I be sitting here with an English Catholic schoolboy whose idea of a romantic evening probably involves making out in the ads of a football match on telly?'  
'Hey! I resent – no, actually, that does sound pretty good.'  
'God help me.'

'Here we are!' Peter proclaimed as they pulled up outside a small, candlelit restaurant that definitely looked a lot classier than Gianni's. The maître d' took Assumpta's coat, and Peter immediately wrapped his arms around her in its place. His closeness and his scent made her heart race, and she was a little disappointed when it came time for them to be shown to their table. When they were seated, Peter ordered a bottle of champagne from the drinks waiter. Assumpta shifted awkwardly in her seat.  
'Ah, Peter...'  
She felt a guilty pang in her stomach as her cheeks reddened. Already the difficult truth was interrupting their perfect evening. But if Peter was shaken, he didn't let it show.  
'Oh, I'm sorry,' he said pleasantly to the waiter, 'make that a bottle of sparkling apple juice.'  
And he reached across the squeeze Assumpta's hand.

Their food was delicious and their conversation light. They joked about their friends and the quirks of Ballykissangel. They relived old memories which recalled all the feelings and passions that had delightfully plagued them since they met. As Peter confessed the affection that had overcome him when Assumpta presented him with the petition to keep him in the parish, Assumpta smiled at him over her glass of sparkling apple. At that moment, she knew with absolute certainty that she could spend her entire life in this man's company without ever truly tiring of him.

'Assumpta, do you remember the conversation we once had about sex education?' he was asking her.  
A thousand mischievous replies formed on Assumpta's lips, but she decided on a simple 'Yes' with a slight raise of the eyebrows.  
'You told me about this old cinema... You said you had your first kiss there.'  
'Yes...'  
'Well, I was dying to ask you...' He leaned in close enough for her to see his eyes twinkle as he whispered conspiratorially, 'Who was it?'  
Assumpta laughed before also leaning in and whispering back, 'Well, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.'  
'Well, as long as you wait and kill me _after_ tonight, I've got no complaints. So, who was it?'  
Assumpta narrowed her eyes, sizing him up. He held her gaze steadily. He wasn't likely to back down. Plus, she remembered, his wish was her command.  
'You really want to know?'  
'I really want to know.'  
Dropping her gaze, Assumpta mumbled something so quietly that Peter didn't hear.  
'What was that?' he asked, taking a sip of his juice.  
She sighed, and repeated it slightly louder. Peter nearly spat his drink in shock.  
_'Ambrose?!' _he exclaimed. 'Ambrose _Egan?!'  
_'Keep your voice down!'  
'You snogged Ambrose Egan?'  
'I was fifteen!'  
Peter shook his head, smiling. 'He told me he hated you at school.'  
'Ha! That's just what he tells Niamh to keep her off his back. No, he was after me from day one. Cut my pigtails off during story time.'  
'Really knows the way to a girl's heart, that Ambrose. If only I'd thought of cutting your pigtails...'  
'I'd have given you a black eye like I gave him.'  
'So was he any good then?'  
'At kissing?' She paused to consider. 'Yes, actually, he was.'  
When Peter failed to look suitably put out, she continued, 'Much better than the likes of you, anyway.'  
'Oh yeah? We'll see about that. Get over here.'  
He grabbed her hand and made to pull her over to him.  
'Peter,' she protested, 'We're in a public restaurant... A _nice_ restaurant.'  
'Don't care,' he said, and there was no point trying to resist his cheeky smile. Assumpta allowed herself to be dragged out of her seat, and pulled into Peter's lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her hands through his soft hair as she returned his kisses. As he gently ran a hand up her leg and began to play with the hem of her dress, she was forced to admit that he was, in fact, much, much better than Ambrose Egan.

* * *

'I can't believe you didn't let me order dessert,' Assumpta whined as they walked hand-in-hand down the city street. 'You're the worst date ever. What happened to "Rule number one: your wish is my command"?'  
'Do you trust me?'  
'Obviously not.'  
'Well, you should.'  
He led her down a small sidestreet.  
'Oh, right,' she said, nodding, 'You're going to murder me, aren't you? Typical. Just when you think you've found yourself a nice man -'  
Assumpta stopped short as they came to the doorway of a warm looking cafe with "Chocolate Cave" painted in gold on the window.  
'Everything they serve is chocolate,' Peter explained, 'Chocolate cake, chocolate waffles, chocolate pies... They even do a chocolate whiskey, which sounds intriguingly repulsive. I thought this would do for your dessert.'  
'Oh, you are just ridiculous,' Assumpta said, and Peter assumed this was a good thing, since she reached up to kiss him as she said it.

Insisting that she shouldn't have to choose, Peter let Assumpta order all five of the dishes which were vying for her favour. They sat at the back of the cafe on a large couch crowded with cushions, and Assumpta proceeded to feed Peter forkfuls of each dessert she tasted, mumbling through a chocolate-filled mouth, 'You have to try this!' Peter was clearly having the time of his life, sharing chocolate treats with the world's most beautiful woman in the world's sexiest dress. But Assumpta was vaguely conscious of the other people in the cafe.  
'I hate _these_ people.'  
'What people?' Peter asked casually before returning to the spot he'd been kissing by her ear.  
'_These_ people,' she repeated, indicating to the two of them. 'Couples who are all over each other in public. I always thought they were silly and frankly nauseating.'  
'Oh, sorry,' Peter said, moving away from her with a dejected sort of pout.  
Assumpta rolled her eyes. 'Well, did I _say_ I wanted you to stop?'

* * *

It was quite a long walk to the beach, but that was probably a good thing, considering all the chocolate they'd just eaten. A couple of blocks away, they passed the bright lights and booming music of a strip of nightclubs. A devious smile spread across Assumpta's face as she halted outside one of the clubs. Also stopping, Peter regarded her curiously for a moment before understanding dawned.

'Ohhhh, no. Absolutely not. No way.'  
'Oh, but my wish is your command,' Assumpta said sweetly as she moved forward to slide her arms around Peter's waist, 'And I wish to see your moves, altar boy.'  
'But I haven't got any moves,' he said pleadingly, though he knew very well that trying to say no to Assumpta was a hopeless business.  
'Well then, it's time you learned some.'  
She smiled at the bouncer and dragged Peter, internally kicking and screaming, through the door.

Peter wasn't lying – he had no idea what to do with himself in a nightclub, but Assumpta was obviously no stranger to the scene. Peter didn't have much time to worry about his dance moves; he was too busy trying to keep all the other blokes away from Assumpta. That, he reasoned, was why he had to hold her so close to him – for her own protection. He felt his temperature rise with every movement of her body. She seemed to find his awkward attempts to move with her highly amusing, but, if he couldn't sweep her off her feet with smooth dance moves, he was content to at least make her laugh.

After about twenty minutes, Assumpta finally took pity on him and led him back out onto the cool street.  
'I told you I couldn't dance.'  
'No,' Assumpta laughed, 'but it's a crack to watch you try!'  
'You're a cruel woman, Assumpta Fitzgerald.'

A sea breeze began to blow as they continued to walk towards the beach in silence. At length, Assumpta asked, 'What are you thinking?'  
'Honestly?'  
'Honestly.'  
Peter smirked. 'I'm thinking how nice it would be if the wind blew that little dress of yours right up.'  
Assumpta's jaw dropped. 'Peter!' she exclaimed, sounding scandalised.  
'Well,' said Peter defensively, 'Tonight there's no holding back.'  
'Oh, I see,' said Assumpta, putting an arm around Peter's waist as they walked along. 'I suppose that means I should tell you how fine your arse looks in those priest pants you're wearing.'  
Hearing those words from her made his head spin, but all he could mutter was, 'You weren't supposed to know they were my priest pants.'  
'Well, I would recognise them! I've spent long enough looking at them.'  
'Oh yeah?'  
She nodded. 'Mmhmm... Kept trying to find excuses to make you climb a ladder too.'  
Peter laughed. 'My, my, Assumpta. I never knew.'

Eventually, they came to a spot on the beach where a picnic blanket had been laid out with a vase of flowers, a thermos of tea and a packet of Assumpta's favourite shortbread biscuits. Assumpta shook her head in disbelief.  
'You know, girls lie awake at night just dreaming of men like you.'  
'Really? Who are these girls? And where can I find them?'  
'Not funny.'  
By way of an apology, he sat down and poured her some tea.

When they had each downed a cup of tea and a biscuit, Peter moved closer to Assumpta, taking her face in his hand.  
'Assumpta...' he whispered, his voice heavy with love and passion. 'I need you to know that, from the very first moment I saw you, you have completely and utterly bewitched me. That first night, I barely slept; all I could think of was your face, and I knew I was in serious trouble. It only got worse from there. Every day, no matter what – whether you were shouting at me or flirting with me or blaming the Church for global warming – I fell for you a little deeper. Seriously, I started to wonder if you were _literally_ bewitching me, like slipping me a love potion or something.'  
'Well, you just made it so easy for me, coming in night after night, buying all those pints. You fell right into my trap.'  
'Anyway,' he laughed softly, 'Before I knew it, I found myself in love with you. And when you said you loved me back... Assumpta, I didn't even know it was possible to feel that much joy.' He paused to tenderly brush a strand of hair from her eyes. 'I know that things haven't turned out the way we wanted, my darling, but I want you to know that I do not, for a second, regret anything that's happened between us, except for the times when I've hurt you. We didn't get the ending we wanted, but, Assumpta, falling in love with you is the best thing I've ever done. And that's why I want you to have this.'  
He pulled out the velvet box that had been sitting in his coat pocket since the night of the non-picnic. He opened it, and presented Assumpta with a beautiful white gold ring, set with an emerald surrounded by diamonds. Tears filled Assumpta's eyes as she stared at the beautiful man with the perfect ring.  
'You don't have to wear it,' Peter explained, 'I just want you to have it, to remind you that I will always love you.'  
But Assumpta silently shook her head, and slid the ring onto her finger. She got up and walked across the sand. She stood facing the ocean with her back to Peter. She didn't want him to see her break rule number three. But it was no use; she couldn't stop her shoulders shaking as she vainly tried to suppress her sobs. When Peter came and pulled her into his arms, she grabbed handfuls of his shirt and held on for dear life.  
'Shhh,' he was saying as he gently stroked her hair, 'No tears, remember?'  
Assumpta tried to make her excuses between sobs. 'I just... I love you and... I don't want to lose you.'  
Feeling his own heart begin to drown in sorrow, Peter knew he had to act quickly to get their one night of happiness back on track. He gently detached Assumpta's hands from his shirt and stepped back so he was looking her in the face.  
'Hey,' he said, 'Why did the scarecrow win the Nobel Prize?'  
'What?'  
'Why did the scarecrow win the Nobel Prize?'  
Assumpta sniffled. 'W... I don't know, Peter. Why?'  
Peter grinned, although his own eyes glistened with tears. 'Because he was outstanding in his field.'  
Seconds of silence followed, and Peter held his breath. Then Assumpta dissolved into hysterical laughter, and he quickly followed suit. When they had both calmed down, Assumpta looked up into Peter's face and smiled. She had never appreciated him so much as in that moment. She stepped toward him, taking both of his hands in hers.  
'Oh Peter,' she said, 'Take me home.'

* * *

Assumpta's bedroom was awash with the glow of the streetlight through the window. Everything except for two racing hearts seemed to move in slow motion as Assumpta closed the door and turned to face Peter. As they looked into each other's eyes, a silent agreement was made. This was their one night. One night of happiness. One night of love. If it's a sin, there'll be no repeating it.

Peter closed the gap between them, and he kissed her with everything he had. As his tongue found her tongue, his hands found her zipper, and her dress fell to the floor. She began to unbutton his shirt, placing kisses down his chest as she did so. He stumbled backwards and sat down on the bed, and she sat astride him, working to unbuckle his belt.

Both of them had had countless daydreams about their first time together. Mostly, they had imagined that it would be frantic and desperate, each trying to give and to take as much as possible before they were interrupted or caught. But this wasn't their _first _time; it was their _only _time. And it was soft and loving and beautiful. They tried desperately to memorise every detail of their intimacy... The words he whispered in her ear, the feeling of her hands in his hair, the sensation of his mouth on her skin, the sound of her calling his name... The perfect feeling of togetherness, of _oneness,_ that they would never have again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

'I love you, Peter,' Assumpta whispered through the still night as they lay entwined, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Peter's chest.  
'I love you too,' he whispered in reply. Then, after a nervous pause, he asked awkwardly, 'Was that... okay... for you?'  
Assumpta propped herself up on one elbow so that she was looking down on Peter's face in the soft golden light. Her look and her words were full of sincerity. 'Peter, it was perfect.'  
'Really?'  
'Wonderful.'  
'You're not just saying that?'  
'Magical. Incredible. Beautiful. _Perfect._ Okay?'  
Peter grinned. 'Okay.'  
With a satisfied smile, Assumpta settled back into his arms. As she did so, she caught sight of the clock on the bedside table. 1:03. Her stomach lurched. She hastily rolled onto her other side, to avoid seeing those cruel, mocking red numbers again. Immediately missing her touch, Peter turned onto his side to wrap his arms around her from behind, placing gentle kisses behind her left ear.

Assumpta decided to take this moment, when her face couldn't betray her pain, to say what she needed to say.  
'Peter?'  
'Mmmm?'  
'Promise me something.'  
'Anything, my angel.'  
She squeezed her eyes shut as she forced the words to form around the growing lump in her throat.  
'Love again.'  
'Never,' Peter responded simply.  
'Peter, you must.'  
'No. I will never love anyone else.'  
'You say that now, but-'  
'I say that always.' He tightened his grip on her waist, and nuzzled into her hair. 'Assumpta Fitzgerald, I will love you, and only you, for the rest of my life.'  
Assumpta sighed. Why did he have to make this so difficult?  
'Just... Just promise me that, if you ever do meet someone else, you won't hold back because of me. I want you to be with someone who appreciates you and deserves you and gives you everything that I can't. I want you to be happy.'  
_How can I ever be happy without you? _Peter thought, his lips twisting in pain that he hoped Assumpta couldn't sense. But, at the same time, his heart warmed as he realised that the enchanting woman in his arms did really and truly understand love; she understood that loving someone meant doing what's best for them, even when it hurts... even when it absolutely tears you up inside. He thought of his selfish desire to take her and run away from it all, to keep her to himself forever. And he admired her so much for the difficult choices she'd made for the sake of others.  
'You're going to be a wonderful mother,' he told her.

With those words, Assumpta finally crumbled. The ever-present black clouds could be kept at bay no longer, and the rain came crashing down on her in full force. This time, Peter had no jokes. This time, he let her cry. She turned over, and buried her face in his chest. Peter did all he could to sooth his love, all the while crying his own secret, silent tears onto her pillow.

Simultaneously sparkling and broken, they reluctantly succumbed to sleep.

* * *

Peter kept on his well-rehearsed brave face as he helped Liam and Donal carry Assumpta's boxes to her van. The two lads kept uncharacteristically quiet, clearly aware that everyone was walking on eggshells today.

'Thanks, lads,' Assumpta said when the van was all loaded up, 'Head back inside and have a drink on the house, won't you?'  
Smiling, the pair nodded their farewells and stepped back into the pub. Assumpta then turned her eyes to Niamh, who was standing solemnly in the doorway holding Kieran. Assumpta walked over to embrace her friend, and Niamh forced a smile onto her face.  
'You'll remember to read those books I gave you?'  
'Of course,' Assumpta promised, leaning in to kiss Kieran on the forehead.  
'And you be sure to have yourself a pretty baby girl to be my Kieran's wife,' a teary Niamh instructed.  
Assumpta laughed. 'I'll do my best.'  
After one more quick hug, Niamh too disappeared into Fitzgerald's. This left only Peter, leaning against the blue van with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Turning to face him, Assumpta gave a helpless shrug. In response, he opened his arms to her, and she gratefully walked into them, trying hard not to think that it would be the last time she did so. Neither of them cried; they had exhausted their tear reservoirs in the wee hours of the morning. They simply held onto one another for a few precious, final moments. Stepping back ever so slightly, Peter looked into Assumpta's face.  
'If you ever need _anything_, you just give me a call, alright?'  
Assumpta nodded.  
'I will always love you, Assumpta Fitzgerald.'  
She smiled cheekily as she kissed him on the nose, saying, 'I'll always love you too, Polar Bear.'  
And, with one last kiss and a smile she thought he thoroughly deserved, Assumpta was gone.

* * *

A grinning Leo hurried to greet Assumpta when she arrived, and she felt a twinge in her heart when his lips came to cover where Peter's had been just a few hours before.

As he began unloading Assumpta's things, Leo cheerfully rambled on about how tired she must be and how he'd bought everything he needed to prepare her favourite dinner. Assumpta smiled, relieved that her predictions about Leo's behaviour were ringing true. He was going to act as if everything were normal, as if nothing had ever passed between their college days and now... as if there had been no Peter, no messy breakups, no time apart. As if they were just as in love as ever. And, if Leo wanted to pretend that everything was grand, that was just fine with Assumpta.

After all, talking was a bad idea. If it's okay, you don't need to ask questions. And if it's not... you don't want to hear the answers.

* * *

As he placed a box of books and photographs beside his rucksack in the back of the car, Peter noted with a smile that Assumpta, though barely more than half his size, had taken at least fifteen times as much stuff with her. He silently prayed that she had got to Dublin safely, and that she would be okay.

_Please, please, Lord, may she be okay._

Unconsciously, he brought a hand to his nose, to the spot her lips had brushed that morning. She had called him Polar Bear. He smiled again. He thought how the regulars in Fitzgerald's would never imagine that their fiery publican could ever be so adorable.

_Polar Bear._ Well, he was almost certainly going to be a bit of a fish out of water where he was headed... But he could hardly stay in Ballykea, could he? Not with judging eyes and the echo of Assumpta everywhere.

No, Peter thought as his little red car wound its way out of County Wicklow, he needed something new. He was determined to live, to try his very best to be happy... for her.


	7. Chapter 7

****_Haha nope, it's not finished yet! I think it's got a fair way to go, this one, but we'll see :)  
I found this chapter quite difficult to write... I hope you don't find it equally difficult to read! Let me know what you think ;)_

**Chapter Seven**

Feeling his soft kisses on her forehead, a sleepy Assumpta smiled. What could be a better way to start the day? His voice seeped through the lingering haze of sleep.  
'Morning, sunshine...'  
The wrong voice.  
Her face fell before she could stop it, a reaction which did not go unnoticed.  
'Jesus, Assumpta.'  
She opened her eyes to see Leo sitting in bed next to her, his hands pulling at his hair in frustration.  
'What?' she asked, feigning ignorance.  
'How much longer is this going to last?'  
'What?' she repeated, weakly.  
'This!' He turned his head to look at her. 'How much longer am I going to have to see that disappointment in your face every time you wake up and realise I'm not him?'  
'Leo, I -'  
'It's been more than a month, Assumpta. I'm doing _everything_ I can to try to make you happy.'  
'I know. You... you've been great.' She moved to put an arm around him, but he pulled away.  
'I'm never going to be enough for you, am I?' he said bitterly, as he stood and headed for the bathroom.  
Lying back down, Assumpta pulled the covers over her head. She hated seeing Leo miserable, but pretending was getting harder, not easier, with time. She was just so tired. If only she could hide there under the blankets forever... But no. She had to get Leo back onside.

Hearing the shower start, Assumpta dragged herself out of bed and headed down to the kitchen to get breakfast started. When Leo came down, he sat and started on his stack of pancakes without so much as a smile. Assumpta wasn't surprised. After five weeks of feeling like second prize, Leo had obviously reached breaking point. It would take more than his favourite breakfast to make everything right.  
'What are your plans for today?' she asked him.  
'Work,' he grunted in reply.  
'Oh.'  
She sounded disappointed, and Leo's curiosity was roused just enough to allow him to ask, 'Why?'  
'Well, it's just that the cafe's given me the day off, and I thought... maybe we could go shopping.'  
Now thoroughly confused, Leo looked over at her. 'Shopping?'  
'For the baby.'  
'For the baby?'  
Assumpta rolled her eyes good-naturedly. 'Well, yeah, Leo. I mean, the baby's going to need things – a pram, clothes, somewhere to sleep...'  
'Right,' Leo nodded slowly, 'So you want to go shopping.'  
Assumpta shrugged. 'It was just a thought.' She smiled coyly, and she knew she had him.  
Sure enough, straight after he finished his pancakes, Leo called his boss to plead for the day off.

* * *

'Oh, Leo, look!' cried Assumpta, dragging him over to a beautiful pink and white bassinet, 'Isn't it lovely?'  
Leo raised an eyebrow at her. 'Look at you, going all gaga over pink lace. They say motherhood changes a woman, but I think you've changed into my grandma, and – I've gotta say – I'm not entirely comfortable with that.'  
Assumpta elbowed him in the ribs before huffily folding her arms across her chest. 'I'm just _saying_, it's a cute bed.'  
Laughing, Leo put his arm around her shoulders. 'Yes, it's very cute. But it's also very _pink._'  
'Yeah, so? We might have a girl.'  
'Or we might have a boy.'  
'Oh, no. Didn't I tell you? I already promised Niamh I'll have a girl so she can marry Kieran.'  
'Have you now? That's going to be a problem. See, I ran into my old rugby coach the other day, and I promised him I'd have a son to follow in my glorious footsteps.'  
'Ha! Which footsteps would they be, then? The ones you took on the way to knocking heads with the referee?'  
'One time! That happened _one time!_ And it was your fault anyway.'  
'How'd you figure that one out?'  
'Sure, you were standing off the sideline wearing a skirt shorter than my pinkie fingernail. I was staring at you instead of watching where I was going.'  
Assumpta laughed loudly at the memory. She reached up to kiss Leo on the cheek, and – for once – it was done with genuine affection, rather than with calculated motive. Sensing the difference, Leo's heart melted.  
'You can get the pink bassinet if you want it.'  
Assumpta smiled. 'Nah, it wouldn't make sense. I did see a yellow one with Tigger on it, though.'  
Leo's eyes lit up. 'Where?'

* * *

They returned home hours later with a van load of baby things, all of which Leo had to lug inside because Assumpta was simply too tired to help. But he didn't mind. That morning's outburst long forgotten, Leo MacGarvey was flying high after spending his day preparing for the family he was about to start with the only girl he'd ever loved. After dumping the pram, the baby bath, the Tigger bassinet and the matching change table in the spare room upstairs, Leo returned to the sitting room where Assumpta was going through the bags of clothes. She looked up when he walked in.  
'I think we should paint the nursery,' she stated.  
'By which you mean, you think _I_ should paint the nursery.'  
'Ah, you catch on fast, MacGarvey.'  
'I'm not just a pretty face.'

Exhausted Leo collapsed onto the sofa beside Assumpta, who was now curiously beholding an item she'd pulled from one of the shopping bags. It was a pale pink pinafore dress with a picture of an elephant holding a bunch of balloons in its trunk. Turning to Leo, she said, 'I don't remember buying this. Didn't we only get neutral coloured things?'  
'Ah,' said Leo, looking sheepish, 'I may have, uh, slipped that in when you weren't looking.'  
Slightly dumbfounded, Assumpta stared at him.  
'I thought it was cute,' he added, defensively.  
'Oh, it's very cute,' Assumpta said, 'but it's also very _pink_. Hardly appropriate attire for a future rugby superstar.'  
'Yeah, well... I guess it wouldn't be _so bad,_ having a little girl. I think I'd quite like it, actually.'  
Toying with the dress in her hands, Assumpta smiled. 'What would her name be?'  
'Well,' Leo said quietly, 'I did wonder if we might name her after Caitlin.'  
Assumpta looked across at Leo, whose emotions were, unusually, written all over his face. They always were, when it came to Caitlin. Assumpta knew Leo found it difficult to even talk about her; they had been together for more than a year before he even mentioned his sister. She had been born with a heart defect, and lived only six years. Though he was almost ten years older than her, Leo was very close to Caitlin; at her funeral, he had pledged that the little girl would always be his best friend. Her death had a profound effect on Leo and his family, though Assumpta was one of the only people he'd ever truly confided in about Caitlin. Now, she reached over and took his hand.  
'Sure, Leo,' she said gently, 'I think that's a lovely idea.'  
'Even if it's only her second name, I just...' Leo trailed off, and was silent for a moment. Then, wanting to restore the cheerful conversation they'd been sharing, he asked brightly, 'And what if it's a boy? What shall we name him?'  
'Pearse,' Assumpta answered, without missing a beat.  
Leo smiled knowingly. 'After Patrick Pearse, right?'  
'Got it in one.'  
'Pearse MacGarvey,' Leo said approvingly, 'I like that. He'll be a hotshot reporter: _Pearse MacGarvey's got the scoop._'  
'Or a detective: _Pearse MacGarvey – on the case._'  
They both laughed as Assumpta folded the dress and added it to the pile on the floor in front of her.  
'I'll tell you what, though,' she said, 'If we do have a girl...'  
'Yes?'  
She turned to look at Leo, and said in mock concern, 'I just really hope she doesn't have your eyebrows.'  
Highly offended, Leo picked up a cushion, and beat Assumpta over the head with it a few times before drawing her into his arms. She closed her eyes and, for the first time since leaving Ballykea, Assumpta felt genuinely happy. She had a baby on the way, and a man who honestly loved her. Maybe she really could learn to love him back. Maybe he could be enough.

Maybe.

* * *

Down in Limerick, Peter was feeling less hopeful. Unlike Assumpta, he had nothing to distract him from the gaping hole in his heart. Sure, his new job kept him busy during the day, but that just meant that he came home every day bursting with things to tell her. He imagined her sitting curled up on an armchair, waiting for him. He'd come in and kiss her deeply, running his hand through her gorgeous, thick hair. He'd ask about her day first, even though he was dying to talk about his. Then he'd tell her all about the shy little girl who wouldn't talk to anyone, and the boy who had the world's smartest mouth but still managed to get the highest marks in the class, and the twins who continually came to school with no lunch. And she'd know just what to do, and they'd figure it all out together. They'd cook dinner and then squabble over what to watch on telly until he'd eventually just switch it off and lead her up to bed instead.

But all that was waiting for him each evening was his empty, drab rental and the equally empty solace of wine.

* * *

Any happiness felt by Assumpta during her day of baby shopping with Leo was completely swallowed up by guilt that night as she lay, far from sleep, listening to the wind outside. With creeping dread, she realised that she had barely thought of Peter that day. It terrified her...

But that was the plan, wasn't it? To move on, to learn to be happy with Leo, to be a family... to do the right thing.

Then why did it feel so wrong?

She didn't want to move on. She didn't want to forget Peter. She didn't want to let him go. But she could feel him slipping away from her.

'_I love you, Peter,' _she whispered, hoping that the wind would somehow carry her words to him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

'Leo, it's freezing in here,' whined Assumpta by way of a greeting as she walked through the front door and stormed straight past Leo to turn up the heating.  
'Sorry,' said Leo as he made his way across the room to kiss her. When her lips were not proffered, he placed his kiss on her cheek instead. 'How was work?'  
Assumpta gave a noncommittal murmur in reply.

Although it was she who had insisted on finding a job in Dublin, Assumpta struggled with not being her own boss. She had never responded enormously well to authority... Still, these days, she mostly preferred being at the cafe to being at home. The atmosphere there was warm, relaxed and friendly, in contrast to the tense sort of frost lately settling between herself and Leo. Things were okay when they were focused on the baby. Their conversations about their unborn child were light and animated, but talking about anything else – especially their relationship – was trying for them both. Assumpta's naturally difficult personality was magnified tenfold by hormones, and everything Leo did became irritating. The couple's arguments over stupid little things masked much deeper issues, and became battlefronts in their own Cold War.

'Assumpta, can we talk?'  
'Now? I was going to take a shower.'  
'Okay. After, then?'  
Assumpta nodded and went upstairs, really hoping that Leo would forget. She was tired from work, and she still had to make dinner. The only conversation she was interested in having consisted of - "Fancy a Chinese takeaway?" "Yes".

But Leo didn't fancy a Chinese, and he didn't forget that he wanted to talk. When Assumpta came back down, he waited for her to make a coffee before indicating that she should sit with him on the sofa. He took her left hand - the one now bearing his engagement ring, Peter's being safely stored at the bottom of a drawer.  
'I thought we should talk about the wedding.'  
Inwardly, Assumpta groaned.  
'Really? Now?'  
'We need to sort it out soon, Assumpta, before...'  
_Before you change your mind._  
'Before what?' Assumpta spat, her temper rising. 'Before I start showing too much? When did you become so bent on propriety?'  
'That's not what I meant... Look, I just want to marry you, okay? As soon as I can.'  
'Right,' Assumpta muttered.  
'So,' Leo continued warily, 'I went to see Father Shanaghan.'  
'You _what?_' she cried, yanking her hand away from his.  
'Just hear me out, Assumpta. I mean, I know neither of us is exactly devout, but there's something nice – something right – about a church wedding, isn't there? So I just went to ask Father S some questions... to get an idea, you know? Anyway, he said there's no reason we wouldn't be allowed to marry in the Church... you know, if we wanted to.'  
'And you did this without even telling me? Just gone ahead and organised everything yourself, have you? Found a church, picked the hymns... Chosen me a nice white dress and all?'  
'No, of course not,' said Leo, trying very hard not to get annoyed. 'I just wanted to get all the information, so we could decide _together_ exactly what we want.'

Staring at her hands in her lap, Assumpta imagined marrying Leo in a church... She imagined marrying him in a registry office, in a garden, on a beach at sunset... But none of the scenarios filled her with anything like the giddy anticipation one would expect to accompany a girl's thoughts of her wedding day. She merely felt exhausted and numb.

'So, what do you think?' Leo asked. 'Do you want a church wedding?'  
'I don't know.'  
'Don't know, or don't care?!' shouted Leo, his sudden outburst of rage making Assumpta jump.  
'Leo...'  
He stood up and began pacing rapidly up and down, the way he always did when he was worked up. After a few seconds, he paused to look down at her, his eyes bright with anger. 'You don't want to marry me at all, do you?' he asked, and there was something dangerously close to loathing in his voice.  
'I'm here, aren't I?' Assumpta said, her voice quiet and shaky under the intensity of his gaze.  
'No,' Leo shouted. 'You're not here. Your body is here, but your mind's not. Your heart's not.'  
Assumpta looked away, as Leo continued through clenched teeth.  
'I am trying to make this work, Assumpta. But how the hell can it, when you are always thinking of _him?_'  
Hopeless exasperation washing over her, Assumpta now also stood, and also shouted. 'What do you want me to do, Leo?! I can't unlove him!'  
'You unloved me!'  
'I never loved you!'

The words were out of her mouth before she had time to stop them. Leo reacted like he'd just taken a swift punch in the gut. He stumbled backwards into an armchair. Bent forward with his head in his hands, he held onto fistfuls of hair, his knuckles white, his hands shaking.  
'Leo, I'm sorry. I... I didn't mean it like it sounded... Leo, look at me.'  
She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. He jerked away, as if her hand were burning hot. Without a word, he jumped up, grabbed his keys, and walked out the front door.

Sighing deeply, Assumpta sat down in his place. She really hadn't meant for her words to be so hurtful, though they were essentially true. When they were at college, she had certainly _thought_ she was in love with Leo. It was only in recent years that she'd come to understand... What she and Leo had was many things – many wonderful things – but it wasn't love. The truth was, she had never known the meaning of love, until she met Peter.

Peter...

Spying Leo's grey jumper sitting in the corner atop a pile of ironing, Assumpta recalled another time when he had disappeared. She had donned his jumper and gone out to walk the streets of Ballykissangel in the crisp night air. She had gone to Peter, seeking comfort in his presence. She had known he was upset with her, but she needed to be near him, to see his face, to hear his voice.

God, what she wouldn't give to hear his voice now... to look into his eyes... to feel his touch...

She bit her lip.

_No. _

She picked up her handbag.

_I can't._

She opened the front door.

_It will only make things worse._

She started the car.

_But I need him..._


	9. Chapter 9

****_Whew, this one's dramatic - even for me! Apologies... Honestly, I'm not some kind of manic depressive! I promise I'll write a happy story one day ;)  
_

_Sorry if it seems disjointed... I had to write it over several days :/ I'm not enormously happy with it, but fussing over it won't make it much better haha._

_Oh, and a quick apology for the strong language... I don't really use words like that, but I imagine angry Leo probably does!_

**Chapter Nine**

Assumpta was about an hour out of Dublin before she realised that she didn't really know where she was going. She hadn't been concentrating on driving; she'd been too busy trying to suppress the thoughts and questions and echoes of words whirring around in her head. Pulling over to get her bearings, she confirmed with relief that she had indeed been driving in the right direction. As cars rushed past her, she fumbled around for her mobile phone. Niamh had let slip a few weeks ago that Peter was no longer in Ballykissangel. A panicked Assumpta had persuaded her to reveal that he was now living in Limerick, and working in a school. Assumpta had thought it wise to ask no further questions then, but now...

Clumsily dialling the number, Assumpta wondered briefly whether she'd even be able to hear Niamh over the pounding in her head.  
'Fitzgerald's,' Niamh said brightly, and Assumpta could hear the raucous laughter and clinking glass of a Fitzgerald's Friday in the background.  
'Niamh, it's me.'  
'Assumpta!' Niamh exclaimed cheerfully, and the regulars shouted their own greetings and well-wishes over the din of the pub. Assumpta winced. Their jollity filled her with a sickening mixture of nostalgia and guilt.  
'Niamh,' she said urgently, 'I need you to give me Peter's address.'  
Behind the bar in Wicklow, Niamh's smile disappeared. She stepped further into the kitchen, and closed the door behind her.  
'Assumpta, is everything okay?'  
'It's fine,' Assumpta lied unconvincingly, 'I just... have to go and see him.'  
'And what does Leo think about that?'  
_'Niamh,'_ said Assumpta warningly.  
'I don't know his address anyway.'  
'You're lying.'  
'Well, so are you.'  
'Niamh, please. I need to find him. It's important.'  
The desperation in Assumpta's voice was pitiful enough to break her friend's resolve. Sighing, Niamh flicked through her address book to find Peter's new location, which she gave to Assumpta, along with a good tut or two. Just before she hung up, she said emphatically, 'I think you're making a big mistake.'  
'You're probably right,' Assumpta agreed, though the line had already gone dead.

* * *

It grew darker and colder, and Assumpta felt tired and hungry and stupid. The initial fire that had caused her to run to Peter had faded to coals somewhere along the way, and it was only hopelessness that kept her driving, because what else could she do?

But, when she pulled up outside Peter's tiny rental house, something changed. Lights shone out through his windows, forming soft, golden beacons of warmth set against the grey sleet of the night. He was in there; Peter was inside that house. In the pit of Assumpta's stomach, someone started setting off firecrackers, and the firecrackers spread colour and heat to every extremity of her body. It was a feeling she knew all too well, but almost two months away from Peter made this delicious and terrifying anxiety seem like a beautiful stranger.

Heart pounding, Assumpta made her way across the frosty grass to knock on the door. She heard the murmur of the telly cease; she heard footsteps and the turn of the lock. And there he was, looking positively gorgeous in jeans and a green checked shirt which made his eyes look deeper and greener than she remembered as they stared at her in wistful confusion.  
'Assumpta...' he breathed. 'W...What are you doing here?'  
Immediately, she was annoyed. This was not the greeting she'd hoped for. He was supposed to step out into the cold night, wrap his arms around her, spin her around, kiss her so thoroughly that she forgot all her problems... Instead, she got a bewildered look and a "What are you doing here?"  
'Well, currently, I'm freezing my arse off and waiting to be invited in,' she retorted.  
'Right... Right, sorry.'  
Peter stepped aside to let her in. She followed the corridor through to the kitchen, and he went after her, his mind reeling.  
'How did you get here?' he asked.  
'I drove,' she answered, with a tone and a look that clearly communicated the silent "you idiot" on the end of the sentence.  
'No, I mean... How did you know where I was?'  
'Niamh told me.'  
'Oh... Does Leo know you're here?'  
Assumpta couldn't believe she was hearing this.  
'Sort of?' she replied.  
'How do you mean, sort of?'  
'He'll know I'm gone. He doesn't know where.'

Peter nodded slowly, his expression concerned. He forced himself not to look at Assumpta. This was a dangerous situation – an extremely dangerous situation. Standing in his kitchen was the woman he loved, the woman he spent every unoccupied second dreaming about, longing for... and yet, she was someone's fiancé – maybe, by now, someone's _wife._ To live out any one of his fantasies, to follow any one of his instincts, would be wrong. He had to keep his distance.

Disappointed beyond words by Peter's reaction to her presence, Assumpta said icily, 'Well, you obviously don't want me here, so why don't I just go?'  
She made to storm past him, but he held out his hand to stop her.  
'No,' he said, 'Please, stay.'  
She was now standing so close that he could no longer avoid looking into her face. She seemed small and broken, and his heart melted, as he had known it would.  
'I'm sorry,' he said gently. 'I'm just confused... and _worried. _Assumpta, what's happened?'  
'Nothing.' She shrugged. 'We had a fight and...I don't know...'  
A thought suddenly occurred to Peter, making his eyes blaze with fire. 'Assumpta, did that bastard hit you?'  
'What? No! No, it's nothing like that. I just...' She looked up into his face, and tears welled in her eyes as she gave the only explanation she had, 'I needed you.'

As always with Assumpta, it only took that one look and a few simple words to completely rid Peter of his senses. Gone were all concepts of right and wrong, of wisdom and foolishness, of good and bad decisions. All that remained in the world was Assumpta's hurt, and his will to drive it away.

'Darling, come here,' he whispered, pulling her into his arms.

Assumpta slid her arms around his waist, and nuzzled into his chest. She closed her eyes, and breathed him in, her every nerve coming alive under his touch. It had been so long... She had forgotten what it was to be held by Peter. And to suddenly feel so much after weeks and weeks of feeling so little was overwhelming, but in the most incredible way. She desperately wished she could just abandon life altogether, and stay forever in Peter's arms where all was well. And Peter, cherishing the feeling of her warm breath against his chest and the tickle of her hair against his face, would have been only too obliging.

It was Peter who eventually broke the magic by speaking.  
'Are you hungry?' he asked, and the question was so decidedly unromantic that Assumpta broke away just so she could laugh at him.  
'What?' Peter asked in mock-offence, 'I am showing concern for your wellbeing! I was _going_ to offer you the leftovers from the pizza I had earlier, but if you're going to laugh at me...'  
Assumpta snorted. 'Leftover pizza?'  
'A token of my undying love,' explained Peter with a very earnest expression, only making Assumpta laugh louder. 'But if you don't want it...'  
'Oh, no, I want it,' said Assumpta meaningfully, placing her hands on his shoulders. 'Please, please give me your pizza of undying love.'  
'Right. I'll just heat it up, then.'  
'Mmm, in the oven, not the microwave.'  
Peter raised his eyebrows.  
'So the crust stays crunchy,' she explained.  
'Of course,' said Peter, smiling. And he was so close to kissing her, but, at the last moment, he stopped himself, thinking that it would be crossing the line... She wasn't his to kiss. Peter's mental struggle did not go unnoticed by Assumpta, whose heart sank. For a minute there, it was like nothing had changed. But so much _had_ changed that they couldn't pretend for long. When Peter turned to put the pizza in the oven, Assumpta silently slipped into the adjacent sitting room, so he wouldn't see her get upset.

As she stood staring at the fire in the grate, Assumpta fought back tears. Peter's words rang in her head – "What are you doing here?"  
_What _am_ I doing here?  
_Why had she come here? To give herself, and maybe Peter, a few hours of comfort? And then what? She'd leave again, which would mean even more hurt... not just for herself, but for Peter too, not to mention Leo, if he ever found out.  
_Stupid girl.  
_She should never have come.

Assumpta was so intently focused on wondering how her life had become such a mess that she didn't notice Peter until a creaking floorboard gave him away. He was leaning against the doorframe, just watching her. She blushed. He walked over and tenderly placed his hands on her waist. Smiling dreamily down at her, he observed, 'You've got a little bump.'  
Slightly taken aback, Assumpta glanced down at her belly before looking back up at Peter's face. In a moment of raw honesty, she made a quiet confession.  
'Sometimes I wish I didn't.'  
Mortified, she immediately clapped a hand to her mouth. 'Oh, God! That was a horrible thing to say!' she cried, her breath quickening in panic.  
'You didn't mean it,' Peter soothed.  
'But I did mean it, Peter. That's just it. I did mean it. This child is going to grow up knowing it's not wanted, that its mother didn't want it!'  
She was growing hysterical, her words and sentences all running together. Peter took her face in his hands. He looked her steadily in the eye, and spoke calmingly. 'Assumpta, just breathe.'  
She took a couple of deep breaths, but then gave up. She dropped her gaze, shook her head, and said despairingly, 'I don't deserve this baby.'  
'Of course you – hey,' Peter lifted her head so she was looking up at him again. 'Of course you do,' he repeated. 'Assumpta, I know that you love your baby,' he said firmly. Then, grinning, he continued, 'I mean, you gave up whiskey for him, and that's only possible if you love someone more than life itself.'  
Peter's attempt to make Assumpta laugh wasn't exactly successful, but she did offer him a sad smile before settling into his arms, where she remained until the pizza buzzed.

The atmosphere at the table was awkward as Peter watched Assumpta eat in silence. Neither knew quite how they should behave around each other. Oh, they knew what they _wanted _to do – to act as if everything were perfect, to share another fairytale like the night before Assumpta left. But reality now was even more complicated than it had been then. Assumpta's ears were ringing with accusations of _You shouldn't be here._ Peter's mind was bursting with a million questions he was too afraid to ask. When their eyes met across the silence, they shared a look of desperation; someone had to speak before they were both swallowed up by their thoughts.

'So, Niamh tells me you're teaching now.'  
'Yeah... Yeah, I'm working at the national school just down the road. Brendan recommended me for the job.'  
'And are you enjoying it?'  
'Oh, yes. I love it.'  
Assumpta smiled. She could easily picture Peter sitting in a classroom, surrounded by kids, keeping them all enthralled in some tale or another, their wide, excited eyes mirroring his own. He'd be such a wonderful teacher. And it made him happy. She was so glad he'd found something to make him happy. She invited him to tell her all about it, and Peter jumped at the chance. Finally, he could share all his little stories with her, like he'd been dying to do from day one. They became so involved in their conversation that they soon forgot to feel guilty or awkward. They were in fits of laughter over Peter's anecdote about a small girl duct-taping her brother to a playground tree when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.  
'Oh,' said Peter, 'That'll be Gerry.'  
'Gerry?'  
'Yeah, me mate, Gerry. I forgot he was coming round.'  
'Oh, Peter, I'm sorry. You had plans.'  
'Only a DVD and some beers. Nothing important. I'll get rid of him.'

As Peter went to turn Gerry away, Assumpta began to clear up from her pizza of undying love. She could overhear Peter's conversation with Gerry in the hall.  
'Is everything okay?'  
'Yeah, fine. It's just that a friend's turned up in need of a bit of support...'  
Carrying her dishes to the sink, Assumpta spied a book on the bench with a pink heart shaped sticky-note attached to the front cover. She picked it up, and read the note.

P,  
Thank you so much;  
you are amazing!  
I owe you one,  
Fidelma  
xx

'Fidelma?!' she muttered, glaring at the note in disgust.  
She threw the book back down onto the bench just as Peter walked back through the door. He looked from the book to Assumpta's now red face, his eyes widening.  
'Who the hell is Fidelma?'  
'No one!' said Peter, a little too quickly. 'She's just a friend.'  
'You mean like I'm just a friend?'  
'What?'  
'Well, isn't that what you told Gerry? That a _friend_ has turned up in need of _support_?'  
'I didn't mean it like... I just thought that would be better than explaining the whole situation!'  
Assumpta merely continued to stare daggers at him, her arms folded across her chest. She knew she had no right to be jealous or possessive - what with her about to marry another man and have his baby and all – but emotions, as a rule, don't listen to reason.  
'Look, I only know Fidelma from work... She teaches English up at the secondary school. She wanted to challenge one of her students with some harder reading, so I loaned her my copy of Animal Farm. That's all. She gave it back today with a note to say thanks.'  
'It has kisses on it,' Assumpta pouted.  
'That's just her way. There's nothing between us, I swear.'  
He said it with such big, honest eyes that Assumpta relented and allowed him to pull her into a hug.  
'_Fidelma,_' she mused as she wrapped her arms around Peter once more. 'Now that's a good Catholic name, if ever I heard one.'  
'Oh, I don't know. I've heard better. I mean, Fidelma's fine and all, but it's not as good as, I dunno, _Assumpta,_ for instance...'  
'Is she pretty?'  
'No.'  
'Liar.'  
Chuckling, Peter modified his response. 'Not nearly as pretty as you, anyway.'  
'Ah,' Assumpta smiled, 'Good answer.'  
'I aim to please.'  
'Make me a cup of tea, then?'

* * *

Empty mugs on the ground, the pair sat facing one another on the small sofa, Assumpta's legs curled up beside her, and her hand entwined with Peter's and resting on his knee. The fire burned brightly, filling the room with golden glow and dancing shadows. Assumpta's heart was heavy with all the laughter and tears of the day that had passed, and she could see the bittersweet legacy of their evening together etched onto Peter's face as he stared into the fire.

'I'm sorry, Peter,' she whispered, breaking his trance.  
'Sorry for what?' he asked, turning his head to look at her.  
Assumpta sighed. 'Lots of things... I'm sorry I came here tonight.'  
'Are you?'  
'Well, it's not exactly going to make things easier, is it? When I leave again...'  
Peter looked away as his heart sank. So she was leaving again... Until that moment, he had allowed himself to hope that she had left Leo for good, that she was truly coming back to him. _Stupid,_ he chided himself. He squeezed her hand to mask his disappointment.  
'I don't know what I was thinking,' Assumpta went on. 'I was being selfish, I guess. I just wanted to see you so badly...'  
'I'm glad you came,' Peter assured her.  
'Really?'  
Peter sighed. 'Assumpta, I've missed you _so_ much. It's actually, physically painful. I mean, I _ache_ for you, you know? And I haven't slept in almost two months. I know that we only ever spent one night together, but, now, every night without you feels so horribly wrong. And even when I'm happy, I'm sad, because I can't share it with you. It's like some cruel form of torture. But tonight... Tonight you're here, and it's like there's breath in my lungs and colour in my world for the first time in weeks. And even though I know it's only going to hurt ten times more in the morning when you go again, I wouldn't give it up for anything. 'Cause it's already been worth it, just to be with you for a little while.'  
He looked into her eyes and smiled his crooked, love struck smile, and affection gripped Assumpta's heart. In those eyes, in that smile, she was coming home.  
'I love you, Peter,' she said softly.  
'I love you too.'

She leaned over to kiss him, and all walls tumbled down. He pulled her closer, finally running his hand through her hair. She grabbed his wrist; she pulled him to his feet; she led him up the stairs. He closed the door, and there was nothing else. Nothing but the two of them, and their beautiful tragedy.

* * *

Assumpta's booted footsteps echoed loudly in the hall. She found Leo in the kitchen, sitting at the table, hunched over an empty glass beside an open bottle of whiskey. He looked up when she walked in, his expression half vulnerable, half enraged.  
'Where the hell have you been?' he asked, very quietly.  
Assumpta kept her voice calm as she gave her rehearsed answer.  
'I just needed some time.'  
'I must have called you fifty times.'  
'My phone was off.'  
'And why's that, I wonder?!' Leo snapped, his voice no longer quiet.  
Heart quickening, Assumpta tried to steer the conversation to safer ground.  
'Leo, I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. I was just-'  
But Leo cut her off. In sudden movements, he got up from his chair and moved around the table to stand directly in front of Assumpta.  
'I don't want to talk about yesterday; I want to talk about where you were last night.'  
Assumpta searched desperately for words, for a lie to tell. She could smell the alcohol on Leo's breath.  
''Cause I think I know where you were.'  
'Leo...'  
'You were fucking the priest, weren't you?'  
'Leo, please...'  
'I asked you a question, Assumpta! Were you fucking the priest?'  
Assumpta closed her eyes against Leo's piercing gaze.  
'Yes.'

Leo moved swiftly. He wasted no time. He seized his keys from the hook and thundered toward the front door.  
'Leo, where are you going?'  
'To kill the bastard!'  
'Leo!'

But he was already gone.


	10. Chapter 10

_Tell me how you feel about Leo after this..._**  
**

**Chapter Ten**

Assumpta sat in the armchair, head in hands, in much the same position as Leo had the day before. Guilt and shame hang with the smell of whiskey in the air, and – just for something different – Assumpta cried. Bitterly, she wondered how her life had become this way, how she had become this person – this person who was engaged to one man, but sleeping with another; pregnant to one man, but in love with another. It was like something out of a trashy English soap opera. With a fresh wave of shame, she wondered what her God-fearing parents would think of it all. And suddenly, she realised that maybe God was onto something when He made the rule about no sex outside of marriage. And vaguely she wondered what else He was right about...

She thought of calling Peter to warn him, but she was holding onto a vain hope that Leo would calm down and come home... That's if he didn't crash first; she wasn't sure how much drink he'd taken. She shuddered at the thought.

Leaning back in the chair, Assumpta placed her hands tentatively on her belly.

'I'm sorry, pet,' she whispered. 'I'm so, so sorry...'

* * *

Hearing the persistent, thundering bangs on his front door, Peter was left in no doubt as to who was on the other side. He opened the door fully expecting to be greeted by a fist to the face, and he was not disappointed. Leo's right hook knocked Peter sideways into the wall, and he barged through the doorway to deliver a few good blows to the ex-priest's abdomen before standing back and glaring at him expectantly.  
'Well?!' he shouted.  
'I'm sorry, Leo,' said Peter calmly as he used his hand to stem the blood flow from his nose.  
Incensed, Leo threw yet another punch.  
'I don't want your pathetic apology, you English bastard! I want you to fight me like a man!'  
'I don't want to fight you, Leo.'  
'Oh, what? It's all meek and mild now, is it?' spat Leo, his face mere millimetres from Peter's own. 'You weren't so righteous last night, were you?! When you were screwing my girl?!'

At this, Peter finally lost it. If Leo wanted a fight, he could have a fight. Peter matched his rival blow for blow, channelling all his anger at their whole miserable situation. Within a couple of minutes, the two men were slouched - exhausted, bruised and bleeding - on opposite sides of Peter's hallway.

'I swear, I didn't plan this, Leo,' said Peter, panting. 'I didn't ask her to come. I didn't even tell her where I live. She just showed up.'  
Leo glared loathingly at Peter through swollen eyes.  
'Oh, and I bet you loved that, didn't you?' he seethed, 'Took her straight upstairs to show her what she's been missing.'  
'It wasn't like that.'  
'Bull.'  
'She was so upset, Leo. She said she needed me. What was I supposed to do? Turn her out on her own in the middle of the night, in a strange city in the freezing cold?'  
'Yes.'  
'I love her, Leo.'  
'_I_ love her!'  
'Yes,' said Peter meaningfully, 'And, if the tables were turned, and she came to you, could you have turned her away?'

Leo didn't have to think about his answer. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd ever said no to Assumpta. He knew very well that he wouldn't have given a moment's thought to Peter if their situations were reversed. He'd have taken her in and, what's more, he'd have done everything in his power to persuade her not to leave again.

'No,' he conceded.

Assumpta Fitzgerald's two most ardent lovers stared across the hall at one another in sympathetic silence, until Leo let out a mirthless laugh.  
'Honestly, that woman... She could break us and burn us until the end of the world, and we'd still just fall at her feet.'  
Mirroring Leo's laugh in agreement, Peter added, 'And we'd be fighting each other over who gets to shine her shoes.'  
Leo snorted as they both got to their feet. 'I really hate you, Peter Clifford,' he said with a wry smile.  
'Not half as much as I hate you, Leo MacGarvey.'  
And, with one last shove, Leo was out the door.

* * *

Assumpta didn't realise she was asleep until she was woken by the soft brush of Leo's hand against her cheek. She opened her eyes and gasped as she took in the sight of her fiancé. Leo's lip was split and swollen; dried blood stained his chin and the collar of his shirt; his left eye was black and blue; and he was hunched over, holding his ribs, which Assumpta assumed were badly bruised themselves.  
'Oh, Leo...' she breathed, sitting up to make room for him on the sofa.  
Leo took the seat gratefully.  
'You should have seen the other guy,' he said, smiling weakly.  
Assumpta ran a hand through Leo's curls, glad that he no longer seemed angry with her. She decided not to ask what happened in Limerick, and went instead to fetch the first aid kit. When she came back, he let her clean him up in silence.

Leo went upstairs to change his clothes, and, when he came back down, he merely stood in the doorway and stared pensively at Assumpta. He was very quiet. It worried her. When he finally did speak, it was only softly.  
'Come here, Assumpta,' he said, opening his arms to her.  
She walked over to him, and he enveloped her in an extremely tight hug. Now she was both confused and worried. Why wasn't he sulking? Why wasn't he making bitter, pointed comments? Why wasn't he punching walls and slamming doors?

'You really do love that English prat, don't you?' Leo asked, his voice gentle, his arms still caressing her.  
Assumpta gave a very small laugh.  
'Yes, I really do love that English prat,' she answered honestly.  
She felt Leo take a deep breath before next he spoke.

'Then go back to him.'

Stunned, Assumpta pulled back enough to look into Leo's face.  
'What?' she breathed.  
'Go back to him.'  
'Leo, wh...?'  
'I love you, Assumpta,' Leo said as tears glistened in his eyes, 'I want you to be happy.'  
'But, Leo... The baby...'  
He brushed the hair away from her face, and explained, 'Assumpta, I know what it's like to grow up in a house with parents who don't love one another. My mother and father only stayed together because of Caitlin, because she was born sick... and they made it so much harder for the poor little thing. She was only small, but she knew, Assumpta. When she wasn't in hospital, she'd come and crawl into my bed almost every night, just trying to escape the sound of Mum and Dad screaming... I don't want our child to have a life like that.'  
'Leo, your parents were...' _Horrible. Crazy. Nasty. _'We're not like them.'  
'Yeah, I know,' Leo assured her. 'I just want you and Little Bear to have the best life possible. And he can give you that.'  
Assumpta could tell that every word was tearing at his heart. Her own eyes filled with tears as she moved back into him, holding him just as tightly as he was holding her. She was so overcome with affection for Leo in that moment. She wished with all her heart that he could be the one she loved... this incredible man who cared enough to let them go.  
'I'm so sorry, Leo,' she said as her tears began to wet his shirt.  
'It's okay,' Leo whispered, stroking her hair. 'It's okay, love. It's not your fault.'

* * *

Assumpta spent that final night in Leo's arms, laughing and joking with him as they both pretended that nothing was wrong. Assumpta fell asleep first, and Leo lay beside her, studying her face. She looked peaceful, he thought. With a smile, he leaned over to kiss her forehead. She stirred, and he took the opportunity to pull her close to him. It was painful – so, so painful – but he knew he'd made the right decision.

* * *

Leaning against the loaded van, Assumpta squinted against the mid-morning sun.  
'Is that everything, then?' she asked Leo.  
'Yep, that's the last of it,' he answered, trying to keep his voice from shaking.  
Assumpta nodded slowly. The air around them grew thick with tension and anxiety as the time for her to leave drew nearer. Never one to dwell in sorrowful moments, Leo stepped forward to give Assumpta one last hug.  
'I will always love you, Assumpta Fitzgerald.'  
'I'll always love you too, Leo.'  
Leo rolled his eyes. 'Yeah, like a brother, right?' he said in exaggerated disappointment.  
'No,' Assumpta smiled, 'not like a brother.' Once again, she pulled back to look him in the eyes. 'I love you like my best friend, the father of my child, and someone who will _always_ be a part of my life.'  
'Always?'  
'And forever.'  
'You promise?'  
'I promise.'  
Smiling sadly, Leo placed one kiss on Assumpta's lips, and one on her belly. And he watched her drive away.


	11. Chapter 11

_Thanks for your reviews! I'm glad you guys like my Leo. I didn't set out to make him so lovely; it just kind of happened. But I guess it's nice for him to get to be the good guy sometimes, as much as we all love to hate him!_

_I've still got a few more chapters in me, I think. I can hardly end it before Little Bear arrives! They might jump ahead in time a bit, though; nine months is a big chunk to write :)_

**Chapter Eleven**

She hadn't noticed before, but Peter's door was red. Red... Just like his door in Ballykea - the door she'd stood staring at for God knows how many minutes over the past couple of years, wishing despite her better judgement that she could just walk inside and share life with him. Now, at this door, things were different. Different, but the same. Still, her heart pulled her toward the door, dreaming of entwining her life with Peter's. But now, there was nothing stopping her.

Nothing, except for a niggling little fear.

_What if this isn't what he wants?_

She did not doubt that Peter loved her, or that he wanted to be with her. He wanted _her_, right enough... Only, it wasn't just _her,_ was it? She kind of came as a two-for-one deal with Little Bear, and, to some extent, with Leo himself. Could she really put all that on him? He had a whole new life here in Limerick... Would he really want it gatecrashed by the entire O'Drama family?

There was only one way to find out.

Assumpta gulped down what remained of her cappuccino, and threw the empty foam cup back into the car. With as much courage as she could muster, she strode across the lawn and knocked determinedly at the door. When no answer came, Assumpta's wired and hormonal mind went through a number of unlikely explanations – including "He's with that Fidelma bitch" and "Leo has literally murdered him" – before finally landing on "It's Thursday; he's at school". Sighing, she set about searching for Peter's spare key. She found it, under the welcome mat, on the first try. Such an obvious place; so typically Peter. She had to laugh. Any aptitude for stealth or deceit had clearly been beaten out of Peter in the seminary; that is, if he even had any to begin with.

Letting herself through to the kitchen, Assumpta checked the clock on the microwave. 2:15. She reasoned that Peter would probably get back from school around four o'clock... That gave her far too much time to imagine how this whole thing could go horribly wrong. Moving into the sitting room, she chose a book from Peter's shelf and sat down, determined to distract herself.

But, as four o'clock and five o'clock passed and six drew nearer, thoughts of flirtatious Fidelma and homicidal Leo began to flood into Assumpta's mind again. Since she couldn't seem to satisfy her head, she decided to satisfy her growling stomach instead. She managed to find a packet of instant pasta in Peter's bare cupboard, and devoured it in about three minutes. Then it was back to the sofa for more waiting and worrying.

Just as she was contemplating hopping back into the van and doing a runner, she heard a car pull up outside... quickening footsteps; a key in the lock.

Assumpta stood, not knowing exactly how to feel. But, within seconds, he was there in the doorway, and the firecrackers were going off again. Like Leo, Peter bore wounds from yesterday's altercation, but it was not these that caught Assumpta's attention. Scruffy haired and sweaty, Peter was wearing a bright blue football uniform – little shorts, boots, the lot. That's why he was late; he must have had training or something. Assumpta's heart melted at the sight of him, and she couldn't help but smile.

Peter, however, regarded her with concerned eyes and a furrowed brow.  
'Assumpta,' he began firmly, 'You can't keep doing this. You just...'  
He trailed off. Assumpta was shaking her head. He looked at her questioningly.

'We're all yours,' she said simply.

Peter blinked.  
He must have heard her wrong.  
Or maybe he was dreaming.  
But he couldn't believe...  
She couldn't have said...

'What?' he asked, almost inaudibly.  
'We're all yours.'  
'Did... Did Leo kick you out?'  
'No, he did not kick me out,' said Assumpta, a little defensively. 'He just... let me go.'  
'So...' Peter breathed deeply, trying to process what was happening, not quite ready to let himself believe it. 'So, you're coming back to me?' he asked huskily.  
'_We_ are coming back to you,' Assumpta clarified, her hands automatically moving to her belly. 'If you want us.'  
'Yes,' Peter immediately proclaimed, his eyes, wide with wonder, locking onto Assumpta's.  
'Well, you can take some time to think about it. I mean, you don't have to answer right now -'  
'Yes,' Peter repeated, moving to take her by the waist.  
'Because it's not just me, you know; it's the baby too, and -'  
'Yes.' He pulled her closer.  
'And it's a lot to take on...' Distracted by the closeness of him, Assumpta felt her arguments turn to dust in her spinning head. 'And I just want you to be sure,' she finished breathily.  
'Yes,' Peter whispered, kissing her neck.  
'Yes.'  
Her jaw.  
'Yes.'  
Her cheek.  
'Yes,' he murmured against her lips.

* * *

Peter whipped around from the open cupboard and pointed an accusatory finger at Assumpta, who was leaning against the counter, glowing with the joy of guilt-free time in his presence.  
'You ate my mac and cheese!' he exclaimed.  
Feigning shock and offence, Assumpta gasped, bringing a hand innocently to her chest.  
'Me? Would I do a thing like that?'  
_'Assumpta,'_ he said, employing the voice he used on disobedient children in the classroom.  
Changing tack, but keeping her innocent tone, Assumpta offered an explanation. 'The baby was hungry!'  
'Oh, so this is how it's gonna be, then? You commit grand theft snacking, and you blame it on that poor, innocent baby.'  
'Yep,' Assumpta smiled, 'That's about the size of it.'  
Peter pouted. 'Well, I was really looking forward to having that mac and cheese.'  
'Ah,' said Assumpta sympathetically. She stepped forward to slide her arms around Peter's waist. 'Well,' she said suggestively, 'Maybe you can look forward to having me instead.'  
'Assumpta...' Peter mumbled, his tone half warning, half longing.  
'What?'

Peter sighed. He knew he was in for a fight, but this was important to him. He still had his faith, and his conscience had taken enough of a beating with what they'd done already. He'd explain it to her. He hoped she'd understand... His conviction was strong, but so was her power over him. He knew from experience that she wouldn't have to push too hard to break him.

'It's just... We're not married,' he stated weakly.  
Assumpta scoffed, incredulous.  
'Honey, I believe the "we're not married" ship has already sailed. Twice.'  
'Yes, Assumpta, but...' Peter ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find words that wouldn't make her want to slap him. 'But repeating a sin makes it worse, not better.'  
Assumpta folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowing dangerously. 'So you think it was a sin, then? You regret the nights we spent together?'  
'I didn't say that! But those were... special circumstances. The first time was our one night, and... The second time sort of just happened. And it was amazing, Assumpta, and of course I want it again. I want it like crazy. I want it for the rest of my life. But...' He sighed. 'This love we have is real, Assumpta, and it's so, so valuable. And now that we've been given a second chance... I just really want to do it right.'  
He finished, and held his breath. For once, he couldn't read Assumpta's thoughts as she regarded him in silence. It seemed like hours before she spoke.  
'Okay,' she said.  
'What?'  
'I said okay.'  
When Peter continued to stare at her in surprise, Assumpta went on to explain.  
'Peter, I've had a lot of time to think, lately. I've realised that I've been using sex for all the wrong reasons. I used it to make you jealous, to get revenge, to find comfort, to hide from my problems... And all it's done is create this huge mess and hurt the people I love. As much as it kills me to admit this...' She took a deep breath. 'I think that, in this area at least, you... and the Church... are right.'  
Relieved, Peter grinned. She agreed with him. That was a miracle in itself, but... the _Church_ as well?  
'Can you just repeat that last part again?' he asked teasingly.  
'Don't push it, Clifford.'  
He stepped forward to wrap his arms around her.  
'I love you so much, Assumpta,' he whispered into her hair. 'And, as soon as we're married, I'm going to take _great_ pleasure in showing you exactly how much.'  
'Mmmmm,' she mumbled into his chest, 'You'd better.'  
They stood holding one another until a thought occurred to Assumpta, and she pulled away.  
'Hey, you don't want me to go and stay somewhere else, do you? You know, in the interest of "doing it right"?'  
'Don't be silly; you'll stay here with me.'  
'...Are you going to make me sleep in the spare room?'  
'You mean the _nursery?_' Peter beamed. 'No. I need to keep you close to me.'  
'That's not exactly going to make the no sex thing any easier, Peter.'  
'Never fear; I'm a trained priest. Not having sex is what we do best.'  
Assumpta threw her head back laughing, and the sound was like a symphony to Peter's ears.  
'God, I have missed you.'

* * *

Peter reached across to touch Assumpta's face in the peaceful silence of the lamp-lit bedroom.  
'How is it even possible,' he whispered, 'that you've become even more beautiful since two days ago?'  
Assumpta tried not to smile, though there was a distinct fluttering in her heart at his words.  
'I have _not_ become more beautiful,' she protested. 'The only thing I've become is fatter.'  
'You are _not_ fat,' Peter insisted, stroking her cheek with his thumb. 'You're having a baby. And that is _beautiful._'  
Now she had to smile. Honestly, sometimes she thought Peter must be a mere figment of her imagination. Men this perfect just didn't exist outside of Jane Austen novels...  
'You're so sweet, Peter.'  
'Am I?' he beamed.  
Assumpta nodded.  
'So are you happy you've come back to me?' Peter asked.  
'Of course I am; I love you,' Assumpta answered, leaning over to kiss him softly on the lips. His hand ran through her hair in the classic sign that things were becoming more intense. He pulled her closer, kissing her deeply as his other hand toyed with the waistline of her pyjama bottoms... Assumpta could sense him losing himself. If someone were going to exercise self-control here, she knew it would have to be her. Reluctantly, she broke their kiss, giving Peter a very pointed look. Sighing deeply, he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.  
'I'm sorry,' he whispered.  
Watching him, Assumpta smiled sympathetically.  
'I told you it wasn't going to be easy.'  
'No,' he agreed, opening his eyes into hers, 'But it's going to be worth it. It'll make us stronger.'  
Assumpta shook her head in wonder. This was definitely not your average man.  
'Come here.'  
Peter shuffled closer, and Assumpta settled into his arms. He slipped his hand under her shirt and began to gently rub her back. She closed her eyes, and everything felt just perfect.

That worried her.

The glow quickly faded, and anxiety set in. It was all too fast, too painless, too easy. Things just couldn't go from misery to perfection in one evening. Life didn't work like that. Something was going to go wrong. Peter would probably wake up in the morning, the initial rush of seeing her having grown dull, and realise he'd made a huge mistake... wonder what the hell he'd gotten himself into in the folly of his passion...

'Peter...' Assumpta said seriously, propping herself up on her elbow and looking down into his tired but blissful face.  
'Yeah?'  
'I'm just thinking...'  
'Worrying, you mean?'  
He was far too good at reading her...  
'It's just that... this last couple of days... everything's happened so quickly. I'm worried that you don't understand what you're letting yourself in for. I mean, I'm asking you to raise another man's child. That's a big deal, Peter. I just think that maybe you should take some more time to think about it before -'  
'Assumpta, we've been over this,' moaned Peter, exasperated. 'I don't need to think about it. I know what I want. I _love_ you.'  
'Yes, I know, but it's not just me, is it?'  
'And this baby,' Peter continued, placing a warm hand tenderly on her belly, 'is part of you. So I love him too.'  
'But he's also part of Leo, and you hate Leo.'  
'Are you kidding? Leo's the one who gave you back to me; he's pretty much my favourite guy in the world!'  
Assumpta let out a little laugh. 'Peter...'  
'I know exactly what I'm signing up for, Assumpta. And I can't wait. So I don't want you worrying about this anymore, okay?'  
'Okay,' she conceded, settling back into his arms.  
'What will he call me?' Peter asked after a few moments of silence.  
'Hmmm?'  
'The baby. What will he call me?'  
'Oh... Well, I guess he _or she_ will call you Daddy.'  
'Daddy? But can I really be his daddy? What about Leo?'  
'You will be his daddy, and Leo will be his da,' Assumpta answered simply.  
'Wow...' breathed Peter. 'I'm going to be someone's daddy...'  
'You're going to be a fantastic daddy, Peter.'  
'I hope so.'  
'I know so,' said Assumpta, placing a kiss on Peter's chest as he switched off the lamp.

* * *

Assumpta slept restlessly, conscious that Peter was awake. Each time she woke during the night, he was rubbing her back or softly twisting her hair between his fingers. When she stirred at 3am and found him still awake, she propped herself up on her elbow to look at him in the pale moonlight.  
'Peter, go to sleep,' she whispered, caressing his cheek with her right hand.  
'I can't,' he answered.  
'Why not?'  
'...I'm afraid,' he hesitantly confessed.  
'Afraid? Of what?'  
'I... I've had a lot of dreams like this, Assumpta... I guess I'm scared that, if I go to sleep... I might wake up. Does that make any sense?' he asked, looking up at her with big, watery eyes.  
'No, Peter,' she said sternly, 'It doesn't make sense. Because, if I were a dream, could I do this?'  
She pinched him hard on his neck.  
'Ow!' he exclaimed, laughing. 'Maybe you're a nightmare.'  
Just for that, she pinched him again.  
'Ow! Okay, okay, point taken.'  
She leaned in and gently kissed the spot she'd pinched. When she raised her head again, Peter was smiling at her, the same faraway smile he'd born that day at the river, now so long ago, when he'd asked "Is this really happening?".  
_It better be,_ Assumpta thought as she touched his weary face.  
'Close your eyes, darling. I promise I'll still be here tomorrow morning... and every morning after that.'


	12. Chapter 12

****_Just a little one, this... Not very eventful. Just a bit of fluff I dreamt up while shopping at Coles! Completely normal behaviour..._

**Chapter Twelve**

The sound of a car pulling up outside woke Assumpta from her nap. At first, she thought it must have been visitors; Peter had football training after work, and wasn't due home until teatime. But a key in the lock and the familiar sound of a backpack being dumped on the floor confirmed that St Carthage's would be down a player this evening. Peter's early arrival took Assumpta by surprise, and she had jumped to her feet and made it all the way to the bedroom door before she remembered that she wasn't speaking to him. Donning a fresh pout, she walked back over and flopped onto the bed.

It wasn't the first fight they'd had since getting back together – far from it. Pregnant Assumpta was not easy to deal with, even for Ballykissangel's most capable lion tamer, and she managed to find something new to be annoyed about almost every day. But Peter could usually diffuse their little spats in a matter of minutes, countering her clever remarks until she laughed, apologising despite not knowing what he'd even done wrong, or – when all else failed – simply flashing her a dimpled smile and pulling her into such a breathtaking kiss that she forgot why she was upset in the first place.

But this morning had been different.

Assumpta twisted her engagement ring around her finger as she remembered. Peter's emerald and diamond ring had been happily back on her hand for just over three weeks. The time had flown by in complete bliss – or, as close to complete bliss as you can get when you're Assumpta Fitzgerald and you're nineteen weeks pregnant. But three weeks, in reality, was quite a long time...

_Long enough for those judgemental gossips up at the school to start giving him trouble,_ Assumpta thought bitterly.

That morning, over breakfast, Peter had been urging her to set a date for their wedding. That in itself wasn't a problem; she wanted nothing more than to be Peter Clifford's wife... But it was early, and they'd run out of the coffee she liked, and she was really just too sleepy for logical thought. But Peter had continued pressing the issue, and Assumpta wondered why. Eventually, she got it out of him. The headmaster had called him in the day before to discuss some "concerns" raised by the school board about Mr Clifford's "situation". A national school could not be seen to support the actions of a man – an ex-priest, no less - who chose to "live in sin with a pregnant woman", and such a man was hardly a good role model for the children. Peter would need to rectify his situation promptly if he wished to keep his position.

And that was why he wanted to marry her.

Assumpta, needless to say, had been furious.

'So, you're ashamed of me; is that it?!'  
'No, of course not. I -'  
'If you're so worried about what your friends think, why don't you just tell them all that I'm your sad, slutty little cousin whom you've so _kindly _taken in since I got myself into trouble? Or, better yet, send me away to a convent until after the baby's born. Would that be easier?'  
'Assumpta, what's the problem here? I thought you wanted to marry me.'  
'And I thought _you_ wanted to marry _me!_'  
'I do want to marry you!'  
'No, you don't. You want to keep the Limerick Pharisees off your back!'  
She'd glared at him, her expression a piercing combination of disgust and disappointment.  
'You know, I really thought we had moved on from letting the Church come between us and dictate our lives. But I guess some things never change. Well, you might want to play their games, Peter, but you're going to have to find someone else to play them with.'  
'Assumpta, for God's sake! Will you calm down? I'm trying to marry you, not murder you!'  
'Yeah, well, I know which one I'd prefer at the moment.'  
Wounded, Peter had choked out her name. 'Assumpta...'  
'You'd better get to school,' she'd said icily. 'You don't want to let your promiscuous houseguest make you late; they might take you out back and stone you.'  
Defeated, Peter had collected his things and made for the door. But, guilt and affection washing over him, he'd turned back to brave speaking to her once more.  
'Assumpta, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you,' he said gently, his eyes wide with hurt and concern.  
'I do not have the patience for puppy dog eyes today, Peter,' she'd said coldly. 'Just get away from me.'

Now, lying on her bed and staring unseeing at the pages of a magazine, Assumpta listened for the sound of Peter sprinting up the stairs, ready to talk the problem over. She might have even been merciful enough to listen to him. But he didn't come. A full hour and ten minutes after she heard him come home, Peter still hadn't shown his face. Assumpta, having spent most of the day simmering in the melancholy excitement of waiting for round two of the fight, now boiled in anger at being ignored.

When Peter finally did knock nervously on the bedroom door, Assumpta was determined not to reward him with her attention. Fixing her eyes firmly on the magazine, she ignored his first knock.  
'Assumpta?' he asked, knocking a second time.  
'What?' she replied sharply.  
'Can I come in?'  
'It's _your_ bedroom.'  
Cringing at her acid tone, Peter entered the room. Heart in his throat, he observed Assumpta, half-lying on the bed. Her cheeks were red, and her muscles tense. Although she was looking away from him, Peter knew her eyes would be blazing. He dreaded the moment when they'd turn on his face. He'd always found Assumpta particularly enticing when she was angry; he loved the challenge of turning the tiger into a kitten in his arms. But when the anger was so real and so deep, and so completely his own fault, it was simply gut wrenching.  
'How are you?' he asked warily.  
'Oh, I'm a freaking ray of sunshine, Peter. And how are you?'  
Peter gulped.  
'Terrible, actually.'  
'Oh, poor baby,' cooed Assumpta in heavy sarcasm.  
'Assumpta, will you come downstairs with me, please? I've got something for you...'  
'I'm busy,' she said, flicking over a page of her magazine to demonstrate just how un-busy she really was.  
''Sumpta...' Peter pleaded.  
Sighing, Assumpta looked over at him.

Big mistake.

Peter leaned against the doorframe, head hung in shame, his eyes raised just enough for Assumpta to see the guilt and fear which filled them. He looked just like a little boy who'd broken his mother's favourite vase playing football indoors...

'Fine,' spat Assumpta, throwing her magazine onto the bed and hating herself for breaking so easily.

Peter could feel Assumpta's eyes boring holes into the back of his head as she followed him down the stairs. Realising exactly how much trouble he was in, he started to panic. There was no way his gesture would be enough to fix this. She would probably laugh at him. She would definitely laugh at him. She'd think it was stupid. It _was_ stupid. What the heck had he been thinking? He'd gone to the shop after work to buy milk, and he'd seen the packet mix there on the shelf... It was cute, he'd thought. Assumpta will like this, he'd thought. Stupid. She was going to crucify him.

He stood aside anxiously, and let her enter the kitchen.

The first thing Assumpta noticed was the mess. The place looked like a bomb had hit it... Well, _that_ was hardly going to get him back into her good books.

But then her eyes fell on the table... on the little stack of extremely sloppy pink cupcakes. Mouth agape, she stared at them in wonder.  
'Cupcakes,' she stated, sounding not entirely impressed.  
Temperature rising, Peter desperately wanted to flee. It had all seemed like a good idea at the time! He'd just wanted to show her...  
'They've, uh, got little candy hearts on them,' he fumbled, trying desperately to save the situation, 'because I love you.'

Studying the heart-topped cakes, Assumpta felt her eyes fill with tears and a disobedient smile itching at her lips.  
'Peter, that is so incredibly lame,' she laughed.  
'I know...' said Peter quietly, deeply embarrassed.  
But then she turned to look at him, and he saw that her eyes and softened. They no longer burned with anger; they sparkled with tears. Glimpsing his window of opportunity, he took her hand.  
'Assumpta,' he began gently, 'I'm so sorry about this morning. I know I hurt you, and I was wrong to do it. You're right; I shouldn't let other people's opinions influence our decisions. The only opinions that matter to me are yours and God's... I know I'm right with God; I want to make things right with you, too.'  
He paused, hoping she might speak up and say that she forgave him. She didn't, so he continued.  
'I do want to marry you, Assumpta. And not because I want to make them happy. I want to marry you because I love you and I want to be with you. I want us to be a family. I want to make _you_ happy. But we can get married whenever you want. If you want to get married tomorrow, that's great; if you want to wait until after the baby is born, that's fine with me; if you want to wait until after the baby's eighteenth birthday, that's okay too... Although we might have to give up on the no sex rule, if that's the case...'  
Assumpta laughed, setting Peter at ease. He felt confident enough to run his hand through her hair, as he asked, 'So, what do you say?'  
Assumpta looked up at him, and she knew he was sincere. Peter couldn't lie to her if his life depended on it. He'd made a mistake; he'd made her cry; he'd made her cupcakes... He'd made it right.  
'We'll go and see the priest tomorrow.'


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Even though it was Assumpta who'd decided they should meet with the priest, Peter still had to bribe her with more cupcakes to get out of the car, and practically drag her into the church. She hadn't set foot in a church for almost ten years, except for weddings and funerals and Peter. Though the old buildings were often dark, they always seemed light to her. Too light. Too imposing. Suffocating. There was nowhere to hide... Suppressing a shudder, she paused at the door. Peter reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She smiled at him gratefully as they wandered down the aisle, but firmly set her face as stone when the priest greeted them from a door to the side of the altar.

'Good morning,' he said brightly, stepping forward to shake Peter's hand.  
'Good morning, Father Emmett.'  
'Please, call me Jude.'  
'Okay,' Peter smiled, 'and I'm Peter.'  
'Lovely to meet you, Peter,' said Jude, turning expectantly to Assumpta. 'And this must be...'  
'Miss Fitzgerald.'  
'Ah.' Jude smiled comprehendingly. 'Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Fitzgerald. I've got a fresh pot of tea in my office, if you'd like to follow me.'

Peter and Assumpta followed Jude down a long hallway to his office. He was quite a young man, for a parish priest; he couldn't be more than forty or so. He had dark, greying hair, a large build, and crinkles by his eyes when he smiled. But Assumpta didn't trust him. Her general opinion of priests was in no way improved by the unfortunate coincidence that she'd happened to fall in love with one of them.

When they reached the simple but accommodating office, Jude closed the door behind them and proceeded to fix Peter and Miss Fitzgerald a cup of tea. Peter sat relaxed and comfortable in his mahogany chair, but Assumpta sat bolt upright, staring out the window. Peter wished he could do something to make her feel more at ease, but nothing was going to make this easy for her.

'So,' Jude began, addressing his words to Peter, 'I believe you know my curate, Father McReynolds?'  
'Yes. I've met him at Mass, of course, and I see him quite often at the school. I enjoy his company.'  
'And he yours. He speaks very highly of your work with the children.' Jude continued, adopting a more serious tone, 'And he has informed me of your... situation.'  
Assumpta tutted, rolling her eyes. Peter glanced over at her before asking calmly, 'And what situation would that be?'  
'It is my understanding that you and Miss Fitzgerald are living together. Is that correct?'  
'Yes.'  
Jude nodded, and continued carefully. 'And I assume you are both aware of the Church's standing on this issue?'  
'Yes, Father – I mean, Jude - but our circumstances are different. You see, we're living together, but we're not... having sex.'  
Jaw dropping, Assumpta turned to look, horrified, at Peter. But he kept his eyes on Father Emmett.  
'You're not...?'  
'No. I mean, we have, in the past. But we've agreed now to wait until we're married.'  
_'Peter!'_ hissed Assumpta, unable to contain herself any longer. 'I hardly think our sex life is any of his business!'  
'He's our priest!'  
'He's _your_ priest,' she said pointedly, turning huffily back to the window.  
Peter looked apologetically over at Jude, who held up a hand to indicate his understanding.  
'I'm sorry, Miss Fitzgerald. I never meant to offend. Of course, I wouldn't ask either of you to share anything unless you're comfortable with it. I merely wanted to get the story straight from the two of you, rather than giving heed to the parish gossips. Is that alright?'  
'Whatever,' said Assumpta quietly as she folded her arms across her chest.  
'Right, so...' Jude turned back to Peter, thinking it safest to direct his questions at the more cooperative half of the couple. 'So, the baby is -'  
'The baby is none of your damn business,' interrupted Assumpta acidly.  
_'Assumpta,'_ Peter breathed in desperation, but she ignored him.  
'Look, are you going to marry us or not?'  
Jude glanced from the meek ex-priest to his wildfire of a lover, wondering how on earth this impossible love had unfolded. It was a story he'd like to hear. It was a story he'd like to help complete.  
'Yes,' he said, and the stormy woman seemed satisfied.  
'Thank you,' said Peter, smiling in relief.  
'When would you like to be married?'  
Peter looked over at Assumpta, waiting for her to answer. He had handed this decision over to her the day before, and he would abide by whatever she wanted.  
'As soon as possible,' she answered, making Peter's heart leap.  
'Well,' muttered Jude, flicking through his book of appointments, 'That shouldn't be a problem. We've hardly got any weddings booked over the next month.'  
'Great,' Peter grinned.  
'Of course,' said Jude hesitantly, 'There is the rule to consider.'  
'Oh, of course,' seethed Assumpta, 'And what rule is that, exactly?'  
'Well, most diocese, this one included, insist that a couple must be seen to attend at least three Masses before the Catholic Church will marry them.'  
'What?' Peter asked, his heart sinking as he remembered the rule, 'Both of us?'  
'That's correct.'  
'Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me!' Assumpta cried, throwing her hands into the air.  
'Rules are rules, Miss Fitzgerald.'  
'Oh yeah?' She jumped to her feet and stared the priest hard in the face. 'Well, why don't you just take your rules and fu-'  
'Assumpta!' Peter cried, 'Calm down.'  
'Don't tell me to – urgh!' Words failing her, Assumpta stamped her foot in frustration and stormed out of the room.  
Once again, Peter glanced apologetically at the priest. 'I'm really sorry. She's just... She and the Church have...'  
'It's okay, Peter. Go after her. I'll talk to you later in the week.'  
Peter hastily muttered his thanks as he took off after Assumpta.

He caught up with her halfway down the cathedral steps.  
'Assumpta, wait!' he called, reaching out to grab her by the wrist. She whipped around, swiping angry tears from her eyes.  
'What?' she spat, 'Did I embarrass you?'  
'No...' said Peter soothingly, 'But I do think you're overreacting.'  
'I just don't understand why everything has to be so hard for us, Peter. I mean, we only want to get married!'  
'And we can! Sweetheart, it's only Mass. You walk in, you stand, you sit, you kneel, you walk out. What are you so afraid of?'  
Sighing, Assumpta looked up at the spires of the Cathedral. She knew exactly what she was afraid of, but she didn't want to admit it to herself, let alone to Peter.

Assumpta had stubbornly ignored and ridiculed God – His existence, His words, His clergy – for years and years. She didn't want Him, and she didn't need Him. Her own way was better. Her parents had followed Him their entire lives, and had taught her to do the same. And how had God repaid them? He'd taken them away. She'd vowed then never to forgive Him... and never to trust Him again. She was determined to show Him, and everyone else, that she could do better without Him.

But had she?

Trying to find her way in the darkness, trying to figure it out by herself, Assumpta had broken more lives than just her own. Now she was afraid of facing up to God. She could picture Him staring down at her, pointing a big, accusing cosmic finger and declaring, 'I told you so!' And she could picture her parents standing behind Him, shaking their heads in disappointment.

Stomach twisting into knots, Assumpta searched for words to explain her fear to Peter. In the end, only one came.

'Shame.'

Peter's breath caught in his lungs as anguish coursed through his veins. He had been expecting some sort of flippant or sarcastic response, maybe a dig at the clergy... but Assumpta had given him a glimpse of her darkest fears. He didn't understand her reasons, but he understood her sorrow, and it shattered his heart.

'Darling, come here,' he whispered, pulling her gently into his arms. He kissed the top of her head, and, not knowing what else to do, he simply held her while his heart bled. Then, pulling back, he said, 'We don't have to do this, Assumpta. We can marry outside of the Church.'  
'But you want this.'  
'It doesn't matter what I want.'  
'Oh, Peter, it does,' she said emphatically, reaching up to caress his cheek. He was forever giving himself up for her... He'd been through so much already, and she couldn't bear the thought of taking this away from him as well.  
Peter shook his head. 'I just want you to be happy.'  
'I know you do. But it goes both ways, Peter. I want _you_ to be happy too. I want to do this,' she said determinedly, 'But I'll need you to help me. Okay?'  
'Okay.'  
Smiling, Peter leaned in to kiss her on the nose. When he pulled back, he was chuckling.  
'What?' Assumpta asked.  
'Nothing,' he replied, laughing harder as he looked into her face, 'I just can't believe you nearly told that priest to eff off!'  
Assumpta giggled. 'Well, he was giving me attitude!'  
Peter raised his eyebrows.  
'Ah, okay, okay. Maybe I'll apologise to him on_ Sunday_.'  
Assumpta screwed up her face at the thought, and it was so strangely beautiful that Peter had to kiss her. She smiled against his mouth, and felt him smiling back. And suddenly she knew that she could face anything, as long as he was there to hold her hand, and touch her hair, and mend her heart.


	14. Chapter 14

****_Hmmm, I might have accidentally just posted a bit of a sermon... Oh well, it is Sunday! Hehe  
The Scripture quoted is from the first letter of Saint John :)_

**Chapter Fourteen**

Peter smiled widely as Assumpta stepped into the kitchen wearing a royal blue dress with white detail. It skimmed her growing baby bump beautifully, and Peter noticed with wonder that, even at almost five months, he still found her figure as alluring as ever.  
'You look lovely,' he said.  
'Yeah, well, I'm ridiculously uncomfortable,' Assumpta replied, fiddling with the elastic of her dress. 'I had on jeans before, but I could hear my mother nagging me from beyond the grave.' Placing her hands on her hips, Assumpta demonstrated in her mother's Belfast accent – ''_We must always, always wear dresses to Church, Assumpta Claire!''  
_She rolled her eyes jokingly, and Peter melted just a little. He couldn't believe that, in all his years of being in love with this girl, he'd never heard her middle name.  
'Well, _Assumpta Claire,_' he said, stepping forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, 'I think you're stunning. How do you feel?'  
Assumpta let out a long breath. 'Like I just want to get it over with.'  
'Good,' Peter said, taking her hand, ''Cause we're running late.'

* * *

Peter kept a tight hold on Assumpta's hand as they ascended the Cathedral's steps in the crisp evening air. He had suggested the Saturday night Mass, as it was usually less crowded than Sunday morning, and Assumpta wouldn't have to give up her sleep-in. He tried not to laugh while she very seriously lay down the rules.  
'I'll sit there, but I'm not kneeling. And I'm _not_ going to listen. And I'm not taking Communion. And I am sure as hell not staying for supper afterwards, and neither are you. I know you like those cream biscuits, but we can stop at the shop on the way home, if you're that desperate. And I'm not singing hymns – especially if it's 'Praise to the Lord, the Almighty'. I mean _why_ do they have to sing that at every single Mass? There must be thousands of hymns, and they always choose that one. Oh, and – what are you smiling at?'  
'Nothing,' Peter smirked, planting a kiss on her head as they pulled up a pew.  
'Hmmph.'  
Assumpta sat, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap, fully intending to stay that way until the hour was up.

And that she did.

Assumpta stuck to all of her rules, sitting as straight as the pew behind her back, staring into space and forcing her mind to think of anything besides what Father Emmett was saying. Sat beside her, Peter watched her out of the corner of his eye, and felt the tension emanating from her body. Feeling half-saddened, half-amused, he traced lazy patterns on her back with his fingers, hoping to help her relax.

When the Mass was ended, Assumpta practically sprinted out of the building and back to the car. After pausing to shake hands with Jude, who gave a satisfied smile and promised to pencil in their wedding for three weeks' time, Peter caught up with her.  
'Pizza for tea?' he asked casually.  
'Oh, I should think so.'

* * *

When Peter walked back into the sitting room after finishing the dishes, he found Assumpta stood staring out of the window, her dark hair falling almost halfway down her back, her dress hugging her hips, her bare feet sinking into the soft rug on the floor. As he watched her, a familiar smile crept across his face. He still couldn't believe that she was there, that she was his. After all they'd been through... the years of stolen glances, accidental touches, dangerous conversations and secret dreams... the day those dreams came true, the excited butterflies, their quickening hearts, walking on air... and then the baby... the weeks of separation, of jealousy and grief... and the day she came back to him, returning the colour and laughter and life to his world.

And today, Assumpta had gone to Mass. She'd done it for him. For him...  
And they were going to get married.

Peter walked over and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He kissed her on the cheek, and at last brought up the topic he'd been carefully avoiding all evening.  
'So, Mass wasn't _so_ bad, was it?'  
'Ha,' laughed Assumpta as she turned around in his arms to face him. She shook her head in exasperation. 'The things I do for you, Peter Clifford...' She sighed. 'Lucky I love you.'  
'I am lucky you love me,' confirmed Peter as he smiled, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. 'I'm the luckiest man in the world. And the happiest too.'  
'And the sexiest,' Assumpta supplied, smiling cheekily and sliding her arms around his neck.  
Peter's stomach leaped at the idea that Assumpta found him sexy, but he managed to keep his tone casual. 'Nah, I think the women of the world have actually given that title to Hugh Grant.'  
'Ew,' said Assumpta, crinkling her nose.  
'Ew?'  
'He's English.'  
'_I'm_ English!'  
'Yeah, but you're special.'  
'Good special or bad special?'  
'_Special_ special!' declared Assumpta, making a face.  
'Oi!' Peter laughed. 'That's it; I'm going to have a shower.'  
'Mmmm,' Assumpta murmured, enjoying – not for the first time – the mental image of Peter in the shower, all lathered up with soap... 'Need any help?'  
'_Assumpta,_' Peter moaned, knowing the offer was (at least mostly) a joke, but desperately wanting to accept it anyway. 'Please be nice to me.'  
Assumpta scoffed. 'Honey, I'm offering to shower with you – how much nicer can I get?'  
Closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, Peter reached up and removed Assumpta's arms from around his neck, putting some distance between them.  
'Three weeks,' he muttered, more for his own benefit than Assumpta's. 'Three weeks,' he repeated, heading upstairs to take his shower.  
Suppressing a giggle, Assumpta watched him go.  
'Better make it a cold one!' she called out, mirroring Peter's own frustrated thoughts.

* * *

The second week's Mass was taken by the curate. Peter was hopeful that Assumpta might be a little more attentive to Father McReynolds, since he hadn't (yet) had occasion to personally offend her. He was wrong. Assumpta repeated her routine of disinterested space-staring from the week before, and even let out an audible groan when the organist started beating out 'Praise to the Lord, the Almighty'.

The third Mass was different.

Everything started off the same; Assumpta immersed herself in a cozy daydream about snuggling up with Peter and the baby in front of a glowing fire on their first Christmas as a family... But the crackling of her imaginary fire couldn't quite drown out the words of the second Scripture reading, and they kept seeping through, and somehow she couldn't ignore them today.

'_We write this to make your joy complete.'_

Was her joy incomplete? She had what she'd wanted for so long. She had Peter; he was hers... He was everything she needed. But wasn't there a nagging feeling, a tug at the back of her heart... that she didn't deserve him. Maybe her joy was tainted by guilt. But what could God possibly do about that? Assumpta shook the thought away, returning to her daydream; the baby smiled and giggled as Peter kissed its tiny nose...

'_God is light; in Him there is no darkness at all.'_

No darkness... nowhere to hide. Assumpta tightened her fists. She would not consent to listen. The baby gripped her finger in its little pink hand...

'_If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves...'_

She was not deceiving herself! How dare God accuse her of deceiving herself?! She knew very well that she had done wrong. But what the hell did He expect her to do about it? She couldn't go back and change it. It was her life, her mistake, and she owned it. When God accused her, she'd plead guilty.

'_But if we confess our sins to Him, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.'_

Confess.

Sins.

Forgive.

Cleanse.

This was all way too much. Assumpta could feel the stone walls caving in on her, the light through the stained glass windows falling on her alone. The past ten years catching up to her, coming to light. Everything she'd run from... She had to get away.

She was about to make a break for the door when she felt Peter's hand gently cover her own. Concerned, he had felt her breath quicken and seen the colour draining from her cheeks. Now, he took her face in his hands and spoke softly, his voice lost to all but her in the resounding tones of the gospel acclamation.  
'Assumpta, what's the matter?'  
Looking into Peter's face, Assumpta was instantly anchored. She couldn't run away, not now. Not when she was so close to giving Peter what he wanted.  
'Nothing,' she said, trying to sound composed, 'It's just a bit warm in here, that's all.'  
Unconvinced, Peter stroked her cheek with his thumb. And, with his eyes, he promised it would all be over soon.

When Father Emmett began his homily, Assumpta willed for something powerful to grip her mind as Peter gripped her hand. But Jude's words rang clear through the Cathedral in the still air, and punctured hole after hole in her distractions.

'If we're honest with ourselves,' he began, 'we've all sinned. I would even be brave enough to suggest that we all sin each and every day. It's a part of being human. And God knows that. But that doesn't make it okay. Sin ruins lives, and it leads to death.'

Assumpta shifted in her seat.  
_I am not listening to this.  
_She managed to shut down once again as the parish priest launched into a discussion of just exactly why the penalty for sin must be death. In her mind, she reviewed all the reasons why she hated the church. Jude's carefully constructed words were reduced to a drone, until one, just one, managed to break through.

Shame.

'But you don't need to be ashamed,' he said, as he seemed to look directly at Assumpta from the pulpit, 'And you don't need to be afraid. God doesn't want to judge you. He doesn't want to punish you, and He doesn't want you to punish yourself. Yes, the penalty for sin is death. And yes, it must be paid. But not by you. Jesus, God's Son, has already paid for your sins. He took your punishment when He died on that cross. It's done. He has bought you forgiveness and life and joy, complete joy. God offers it to you as a gift. All you have to do is accept it.'

Peter watched as Assumpta wrung her hands, as her cheeks reddened, and as she let out a defeated sigh. Later, he watched, heart pounding, as she stood to take Communion. He watched as she knelt, bowed her head, and closed her eyes. He watched a single golden tear glisten in the candlelight as it wove its way down her porcelain cheek.

And he was speechless.

More than that, he was thoughtless, prayerless. He could nothing but stare at Assumpta Fitzgerald..._ praying._

* * *

Assumpta rushed out to the car even more quickly than usual. Despite the obvious shift that had occurred during this week's Mass, she didn't seem any less eager for it to be over. Peter almost had to jog to keep up with her.

Peter knew that Assumpta would not want to talk about what had just happened – not yet, anyway. But his deep curiosity and his concern for her feelings overpowered his better judgement. As soon as they were both in the car, he turned to her, his expression serious.  
'Assumpta, what -'  
'Shall we get chips for tea?' she asked nonchalantly, facing the window.  
'What?'  
'I've been craving chips all day,' she said, turning to look at him, 'And maybe we could rent a movie?'  
Assumpta's voice was cheerful, but her eyes conveyed a plea that Peter understood perfectly well. He'd leave it alone, for now.  
'Something with Hugh Grant?' he joked, and Assumpta smiled gratefully in reply.

* * *

It wasn't until late that night, when the light from the moon and the streetlamps entwined with their hands across the sheets, that Peter brought it up again.  
'Assumpta,' he whispered over the inches between their faces. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she wasn't sleeping.  
'Yeah?' she said quietly, knowing what was coming.  
'What happened today?' he asked, his thumb drawing slow circles on her palm.  
'Lots of things happened today, Peter.'  
He sighed.  
'You know what I mean,' he pressed, 'At Mass.'  
After a few moments, Assumpta opened her eyes. She could just make out his face in the half-light.  
'I prayed,' she told him.  
Peter nodded calmly, trying not to make it seem like a big deal. Though, of course, it was.  
'What did you pray about?'  
'I just... asked for forgiveness.'  
'Forgiveness?'  
'Yeah.' Assumpta shrugged.  
A broad smile spread across Peter's face. He had never allowed himself to hope that she might come to share his faith...  
'Oh, Assumpta, that's wonderful.'  
'Yeah, well, don't get all excited there, Saint Peter,' she warned strongly. 'I'm not about go on the freaking flower rota or any of that nonsense. Nothing has changed. I was just asking for forgiveness. It's no big deal. Okay?'  
'Okay.'

Assumpta closed her eyes again, hoping Peter would be content to leave the conversation there. And he was, almost. He studied her for a while, thinking about how amazing, how delightfully complex and fascinating and absolutely captivating she was. Then he moved to wrap his arm around her, and sweetly kissed her forehead.

'Assumpta, I'm so proud of you,' he whispered into her hair.


	15. Chapter 15

_Fluff, fluff, fluffity fluff. Maybe I'll put a complication in the next chapter... Maybe. Until then, help yourselves to some more fluff! :P_**  
**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Assumpta made a dissatisfied face at her reflection in the mirror.  
'I look ridiculous,' she stated huffily.  
Niamh briefly glanced over Assumpta's shoulder before returning to the task of taming her best friend's curls.  
'You look gorgeous,' she said dismissively.  
Unconvinced, Assumpta looked herself up and down. Her dress was nice, she supposed. It wasn't white, exactly – more an extremely pale yellow. The empire waistline was accented with a maroon ribbon which matched with the tiny rosebuds dotted over the floor length skirt. She even had elbow length gloves of maroon silk. Yes, she looked nice, but...  
'I'm hardly your classic blushing bride though, am I?'  
'No,' Niamh conceded. 'But you'll be perfect to Peter.'  
Assumpta sighed. She knew Niamh was right. Hell, she'd be perfect to Peter if she walked down the aisle in her Little Miss Stubborn jammies... He did love those... But, although she'd never been the little girl who looked at bridal magazines and held weddings for her dolls, she'd still had dreams.  
'I just... I never imagined I'd be getting married at five months pregnant,' she said with a weak laugh.  
'Assumpta, no one _imagines_ getting married at five months pregnant. But it happens. And it's not important.'  
Assumpta raised her eyebrows.  
'No?'  
'No. What's important is that you're marrying Peter, and that you love each other, and that he makes you happy.'  
Thoughtful, Assumpta nodded silently.  
'Does he? Make you happy?' Niamh asked, almost as an afterthought, finally looking up from Assumpta's hair to meet her eye in the glass of the mirror.  
Blowing out a long breath, Assumpta sat down on the bed.  
'Well,' she began, 'he has this infuriating habit of arguing with me instead of just doing what he's told... His feet are _freezing_, but he always puts them on me when we're in bed... He _knows_ how cute he is, and he uses it to make me do and say things that I normally never would... And he never, ever remembers to pick his towel up off the bathroom floor...' She paused to look up at Niamh. 'But, yes. He makes me very happy. Happier than I ever thought I could be.'  
'Well then,' said Niamh with a satisfied smile as she tossed Assumpta her bouquet, 'What are we waiting for?'

* * *

The burgundy carpeted aisle seemed to stretch on forever as the butterflies in Assumpta's stomach danced to the strains of the organ. Brendan squeezed her hand as they walked, and she ventured a glance up at his face. His eyes twinkled, and he beamed with pride. Assumpta caught a glimpse of her father's gold cufflink on Brendan's right arm as he reached up to swipe at an escaping tear. Smiling, she turned her gaze to another man.

When Peter locked eyes with his bride, his heart swelled almost painfully with love. She smiled at him, and his knees threatened to cave beneath him. To Peter, Assumpta had never been so beautiful as she was in that moment. Nothing in the world had ever been so beautiful. Because, in that moment, for the first time, she was his. Assumpta was completely, undeniably and _beautifully_ his. And he would never, ever let her go again.

When Assumpta reached him, Peter wasted no time in taking her hand, the feeling of the silk so lovely against his skin.  
'Assumpta,' he breathed, his eyes piercing her own, 'You are... exquisite.'  
Assumpta blushed, and offered him the most adorably shy smile. And his poor heart finally exploded in his chest.

She was his.  
And she was happy.

'Dearly beloved...'

* * *

Everyone applauded as the new Mr and Mrs Clifford started back down the aisle together. With Peter's ring on her finger, and his hand in her hand, Assumpta was at very real risk of thinking that everything in the world was simply perfect.

Until the organist began to play their final hymn.

Assumpta stopped dead in her tracks, and 'Praise to the Lord, the Almighty' filled the air around her. Peter turned back to face her with an all-too-innocent expression on his face. She narrowed her eyes.  
'You didn't,' she growled through clenched teeth.  
Peter threw his head back laughing. Assumpta ran to tackle him, but he caught her and pulled her into a hug, lifting her up and spinning her around. She tried unsuccessfully not to laugh.  
'You are going to pay for this later,' she vowed.  
'Ooooooh!' came a teasing voice from behind them.  
'Shut up, Padraig!' cried the couple in unison.

Eventually, they made it out onto the Cathedral steps, where they were engulfed in the swarm of well-wishing friends and family. While Peter listened to the expert marriage advice of Ambrose Egan, a fretful Niamh pulled Assumpta aside.  
'What's the matter?' Assumpta asked.  
'I found this...' Niamh answered, handing her friend a bunch of cheerful yellow daisies. 'Someone must have left them on the stairs.'  
'Oh...' breathed Assumpta.  
'There's a card,' offered Niamh, though neither of them needed to read it to know whom it was from.  
Assumpta opened the tiny purple envelope, and flipped over the card. It held only three words. But, like so many times before, three words said everything.

_Be happy, Assumpta._

She brought the card to her lips, knowing he would have done the same before sealing it.  
_I will, Leo,_ she silently promised._ I will._

* * *

At the pub down the road, Peter and Assumpta laughed, chatted, ate and drank with Peter's brothers and their families, Assumpta's aunts, uncles and cousins, and – of course – their friends from Ballykissangel. No one had changed one bit, they both noted with gladness, and it felt just like old times. Only, they no longer had to hide their feelings from anyone – not from their friends, and not from themselves.

It was _free,_ and it was blissful.

The time came for Peter to take his wife's hand and lead her onto the dance floor. Suppressing a laugh, Assumpta recalled the last time they had danced. She could only hope that poor Peter would cope better with the slow stuff.

He did.

He held her with gentle strength as they moved around the floor. They looked into one another's eyes, and the world melted away. The pub's dusty disco ball and the scattered tealight candles created lights that fell like stars around them as they twirled. And Assumpta thought she might simply fly away. Peter pulled her closer, and then she knew. They_ had_ been given their fairytale after all. Sure, at times it had seemed more Grimm Brothers than Disney, but... It was theirs. It was perfect.

Assumpta closed her eyes to say a little thankyou, and she felt Peter's lips cover her own.  
'My angel,' he whispered, and she gave a little laugh.  
'Hardly,' she said meaningfully.  
'Shhh you,' he said, moving his kiss to her cheek. 'Just consent to be my angel.'  
'Okay,' she sighed dramatically. 'But still,' she added seductively, whispering in his ear, 'I am getting into those priestly pants of yours tonight, if it's the last thing I do.'  
'And what if I say no?' asked Peter teasingly.  
'Hmmm, you won't,' Assumpta assured him, and he laughed.  
Bringing his forehead to rest on hers, Peter spoke tenderly. 'I love you so much, Mrs Clifford.'  
'I love you too.'

* * *

'Hey,' Peter whispered into Assumpta's hair, 'I've got something for you.'  
Grinning, Assumpta lifted her head from his chest to look into his face. 'What? Again? All that football has done wonders for your stamina...'  
'No, not that!' Peter slapped her playfully on the arm. 'Although... maybe after.'  
Assumpta laughed. 'What then?'  
He leaned over to retrieve something from the drawer of the bedside table. He handed it to Assumpta, who studied it in bewilderment.  
'The south of France...' she muttered, flipping the brochure over in her hands. 'I don't understand.'  
'Well, you see, in England, we have this tradition where couples go on a trip together after they get married,' he explained condescendingly, 'We call it a honeymoon.'  
Assumpta whacked him in the face with the brochure. 'Yes, I know, you idiot! We have that too, believe it or not. But we can't afford this...'  
'Sure we can. It's all paid for.'  
'But how?'  
'I had savings.'  
'Savings?'  
'Well, an inheritance... from my mum. I mean, it was no ancient family fortune or anything, but it was a tidy sum.'  
'Peter, you spent your inheritance on our honeymoon?' Assumpta asked, running a hand over his chest.  
'Not all of it,' he replied. 'I put the rest into a savings account for the baby.'  
'What? But Peter, your mum left you that money for -'  
'For my future. And you _are_ my future – my wife and my child.'  
'Oh, Peter,' sighed Assumpta, leaning in to kiss him softly. 'I don't deserve you.'  
'Of course you do,' he answered, taking her face in his hands. 'You deserve everything, Assumpta. And I'm gonna do all I can to give it to you.'  
Overcome, Assumpta kissed Peter deeply, running her fingers through his hair. Pulling away, she smiled his favourite smile.  
'So, how's that stamina?' she asked.  
'It's directly in proportion to your beauty.'  
'Ah,' she responded, 'So, infinite then?'  
'Absolutely,' Peter confirmed, pulling her on top of him.


	16. Chapter 16

_Don't worry, guys; it is nearly finished! I'm not going to throw their world into turmoil or anything :P I just think this discussion is kind of necessary. _**  
**

_Oh, and I know the Doctor Who reference is, like, ten years too early, but a fangirl's gotta do..._

**Chapter Sixteen**

Assumpta decided that the sofa must have been blessed by the Pope - or at least a very important bishop – because it had miraculously gained the ability to sense the curves of her aching body and provide soft, delightful comfort in all the right places. In no time at all, she'd fallen into the most absolutely wonderful sleep on this lazy Sunday afternoon. She was dreaming of sleeping on one of those white, fluffy cartoon clouds, floating high above the world and all its cares, until...

'Assumpta!'  
Her eyes shot open as Peter, oblivious to the felicity from which he'd just torn his wife, rounded the corner into the sitting room.  
'Have you seen my football boots?'  
'What?' she spat.  
'My boots. I can't find them. Did you move them?'  
'Peter, in what universe would I even go _near_ your filthy, smelly football boots?'  
Her voice was thick with tell-tale venom. With Peter-has-done-something-wrong venom. He cringed.  
'Sorry...' he fumbled, 'I needed to pack them, and... I just thought -'  
'You just thought you'd wake me up to ask me a completely pointless question. For God's sake, Peter; you know I haven't slept properly in two weeks.'  
'Yeah, it's not the only thing you haven't done in two weeks,' he mumbled under his breath.  
_'What?'_ hissed Assumpta, sitting bolt upright on the sofa.  
'Nothing,' said Peter quickly. 'I didn't know you were sleeping. I'm sorry.'  
'Forget about it,' she muttered, sounding not the slightest bit forgiving.

Peter watched Assumpta stare out of the window. He did feel bad about waking her. He knew how tired she was, and how uncomfortable. At thirty-two weeks, they were on the home stretch, but things seemed to be getting harder for Assumpta as they neared the end. Peter wished he could do more to help her, but his efforts made things worse about as often as they made things better. And now he was going to leave her for almost a whole week...

He walked over and sat down next to Assumpta, tentatively taking her hand. She didn't lace her fingers with his, the way she normally did, but she didn't swat him away either.  
'Are you upset because I'm going away?' he asked gently.  
'No.'  
'Are you upset because I'm missing your ultrasound?' he pressed, getting down to the real source of his guilt.  
Not wanting to admit to it, Assumpta shrugged. Peter felt awful.  
'I'll go and call the school,' he said decisively, 'Maybe they can find someone else to take the camp. Perhaps Fidelma will do it. I mean, she doesn't know much about football, but I'm sure she could wing it -'  
'Don't be stupid, Peter. You're the football coach; you have to take the football camp. That's the way it works.'  
'But this is more important. You shouldn't have to go alone.'  
Assumpta bit her lip. She looked anywhere but Peter's face, as she confessed, 'I'm not going alone.'  
'What do you mean?' asked Peter, confused.  
Assumpta tried to keep her tone nonchalant. 'Leo's coming down.'  
_'What?' _cried Peter, dropping her hand.  
'He's coming tomorrow.'  
'And were you planning on telling me this?!'  
'Of course I was.'  
'When? Tomorrow, after I'd already gone? When I could do nothing to stop it?'  
Assumpta scoffed. 'You can do nothing to stop it _now._'  
Peter jumped to his feet. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.  
'And where exactly is Leo going to stay?'  
'He's going to stay here.'  
'Oh, _naturally,'_ spat Peter, his voice heavy with sarcasm. 'Naturally, he's going to stay here, in _my_ home!'  
'Our home, Peter.'  
Peter brought his hands to his reddening face in frustration. Assumpta's incessantly casual tone was only making him more furious by the second.  
'Do you seriously think that I'm going to go away and leave you here with him?'  
'Wow, Peter, it's great to know that I have your trust.'  
'It's him I don't trust.'  
'That is not fair.'  
'He's in love with you!'  
'Yes. But I'm your _wife_. He wouldn't lay a hand on me now.'  
'I wouldn't bank on it.'  
'Well, I would! And I know him a lot better than you do! Anyway, you wouldn't even have me if it wasn't for Leo. He's the one who told me to come back to you, or had you forgotten?'  
'Told you to come back to me? Geez, Assumpta, you make it sound like being told to clean your room. You know, you needn't have come if you didn't want to.'  
'Oh, Peter, don't be ridiculous.'  
'_I'm_ ridiculous?! I'm not the one replacing you with someone else because you have to go out of town for five measly days!'  
'I'm not repla– You know what? I'm not even going to discuss this with you anymore.'  
'Fine. I'm going out.'  
'Great, and don't come back until you can act like a grown up.'

* * *

Hearing a key in the door some hours later, Assumpta tossed away the cloth with which she'd been cleaning the kitchen counter. She dried her hands on the tea towel, and looked over just in time to see Peter sidle into the kitchen, stopping just inside the door.

'Hey,' she said warmly.  
'Hi,' replied Peter flatly, staring at his shoes.

Inwardly, Assumpta smiled. She found his attempt at sulking really rather cute. She'd known he'd be like this when he came back. But she was ready.

'I've got a lasagne in the oven,' she offered.  
Peter didn't reply, though he thought it smelled amazing.  
'And there's chocolate mousse for after,' Assumpta continued brightly. 'I thought I'd better fill you up before packing you off for a week of camp food in Kerry.'  
'Thanks,' Peter mumbled, kicking at an invisible stone with his shoe.

Watching him, Assumpta sighed. The poor man really had upset himself. She felt terrible; she had done since the moment he left. She walked over and placed her hands on Peter's shoulders.  
'Hey,' she whispered, and he reluctantly lifted his eyes to her face. 'I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you before. You didn't deserve it.'  
'Yeah, well,' muttered Peter, shifting uncomfortably, 'I wasn't exactly calm and rational either...'  
'You were upset. You had every right to be.'  
Peter was taken aback; it always shocked him when she admitted to being wrong. It was an occurrence more unlikely than Middlesbrough winning the cup...  
'I should have spoken to you before I asked Leo to come,' Assumpta went on, 'I just didn't want to start a fight.'  
Peter snorted.  
'I know, I know,' groaned Assumpta, resting her head on his chest. 'I'm sorry.'  
Peter put his arms around her. 'It's okay,' he said, almost wanting to laugh at how easily he always gave in to her.

After a while, Assumpta pulled back and looked into his face.  
'I'm sorry for the way I told you,' she said carefully, 'But Leo _is_ still coming.'  
Peter rolled his eyes in exasperation.  
'He wants to be involved, Peter. And he has a right to be... He is the baby's father, after all.'  
'But that's just it, Assumpta,' cried Peter desperately, willing her to understand why he was so upset. 'I thought _I_ was going to be the father.'  
'You are.'  
'Not if Leo is! We can't both be the father, Assumpta.'  
He walked over and flopped hopelessly onto a chair, leaving Assumpta to follow slowly as she realised what the real problem was here. Pulling out a chair, she sat beside him.  
'But Peter,' she said gently, 'that's always been the plan. I thought you understood that...'  
'I did... I do,' he sighed. 'It's a nice idea, but it's never going to work in the real world.'  
'Why not?'  
'It's just too complicated! It raises too many issues, too many questions.'  
'Like what?'  
'Like, what's the baby's surname going to be?'  
'Clifford,' Assumpta answered simply.  
'And how does Leo feel about that?'  
Assumpta paused. 'Well, I don't know. We haven't really spoken about it...'  
Peter gave her a very pointed look.  
'And that's just the beginning,' he went on. 'What about when the baby gets older? Who's going to decide where he goes to school? Or whether she does dancing or football? Or if he can wear his hair in mohawk? Or whether she's allowed to have a boyfriend when she's fifteen?'  
'Peter,' Assumpta laughed, 'The child's not even born yet. Don't you think it's a bit early to be worrying about boyfriends and mohawks?'  
'Maybe. But, when it is time, who's going to make these decisions?'  
'We are,' she answered, placing her hand over his. 'All of us. Together.'  
Peter scoffed. 'And how is that going to work?'  
'I don't know,' she said dismissively. 'We'll figure it out.'  
'It's not going to be easy, Assumpta.'  
'Darling, nothing has ever been easy for us. But we always make it work... Maybe you can hit up that God of yours for a little bit of help, eh? After all, He had to share His parenting rights with Joseph. Probably the reason why Jesus never had a mohawk.'  
Peter laughed.  
'Mission accomplished,' announced Assumpta triumphantly.  
'Huh?'  
'I challenged myself to have you smiling within five minutes of walking through the door.'  
Still grinning, Peter shook his head. 'I never stood a chance, did I?'  
'Nope,' she replied, standing up and kissing the top of his head, 'Never ever.'

* * *

Buzzing with the excitement of the day, Assumpta rushed to answer the phone.

'Hello?' she said brightly into the receiver.  
'Hey you,' came the affectionate response.  
'How was your day?' Assumpta asked as she twirled the cord around her finger, reminding the amused Leo of an infatuated schoolgirl.  
'Oh, you know,' answered Peter drearily, 'we ran around a field; we kicked some balls; the boys threw food at one another. Who cares about my day? How was your scan?'  
'Oh, Peter, it was...' She searched for words to describe it. 'It was unbelievable. It wasn't like the first scan I had; I mean, the baby looks like a real person now! Sorry, that sounds so stupid...'  
'It's not stupid,' Peter assured her, smiling warmly at her excitement.  
'And you could see it all so clearly, Peter; its little face... It was amazing. Leo cried, big girl that he is.'  
'Hey!' shouted Leo from the background, 'I am not a girl! Peter, tell her I am not a girl!'  
Laughing, Assumpta pretended to listen to Peter on the phone; then, turning back to Leo, she reported, 'He says you're a girl... a sweet little girl... with pigtails.'  
'I did not say that!' Peter cried. 'Assumpta, tell him I did not say that!'  
But she only laughed.  
'I've got a photo to show you when you get home,' she told him.  
'I can't wait. And the doctor said everything's fine? Did you ask him about your trouble sleeping? And what about the headaches?'  
'It's all completely normal. I've told you that a hundred times...'  
'I just worry about you.'  
Assumpta smiled. 'I know you do. But I'm fine, and so is Little Bear. We miss you, though.'  
'I miss you too. Only two more days 'til I'm home.'  
'Yeah, well, don't even bother coming home unless you bring me presents.'  
'What kind of amateur do you think I am?'  
'Hmmm, I must admit, you are catching on rather well.'  
'You know it. Argh, Assumpta, I've gotta go. The boys have planned an attack on the Tipperary team's dorm. Oh, God, are those firecrackers?! Ahhh, I'll speak to you tomorrow.'  
'Okay,' Assumpta laughed. 'I love you.'  
'I love you too.'

* * *

'Peter?' Assumpta spoke, her shaky voice cutting through the still night as she gently shook him awake.  
Peter groaned sleepily. 'Sweetheart, I've told you,' he mumbled, 'there are no weeping angels in our house. You're safe here with me... Go back to sleep.'  
'No, Peter, it's not that.'  
Peter opened his eyes, and was just able to make out his wife's silhouette against the blinding lamplight.  
'What's wrong?' he asked.

'I think it's time to go to the hospital.'


	17. Chapter 17

****_As the story is ending, I want to thank singtomemymeadow for her regular reviews! They've been super encouraging. They kept me writing :) And, to answer your question, it seems that I always have more stories in the hopper. I should perhaps learn to think about other things once in a while :P There might actually be a sequel to this, somewhere down the line :)_

_Thanks to the rest of you, too! :D_

**Chapter Seventeen**

Peter smiled dreamily down at his wife, smoothing her hair away from her clammy forehead as he sat on the edge of her bed.  
'You did so well, sweetheart,' he said adoringly. 'I'm so proud of you.'  
Assumpta returned her husband's smile, looking up at his face, her heavy eyelids drooping. She reached up to gently touch the darkening mark on his cheekbone.  
'Sorry I punched you,' she said sheepishly.  
Peter laughed quietly, shaking his head. 'Well, it was always a question of when.'  
'Mmmm... I'm surprised you made it this long, really.'  
Grinning, Peter leaned down to softly kiss Assumpta's head. She closed her eyes, succumbing to the exhaustion and to the comfort of his love.  
'Thank you for being here,' she murmured sleepily.  
'Thank you for letting me be here.'

Just as Assumpta was about to surrender to sleep, however, a bright eyed nurse pushed through the door. The nurse – who, in Assumpta's opinion, looked far too blonde and far too young to even be out of school – wheeled in their small bundle in a hospital crib, fresh from being cleaned up and checked over.  
'Congratulations, Cliffords!' chirped the nurse. 'Everything is well with this little one. I'll leave you three to get acquainted!'  
And she flitted out of the room like some sort of baby-bestowing fairy. Assumpta stared after her in amused incredulity, but Peter was oblivious to all but the tiny, peaceful creature wrapped so snugly in a pale yellow blanket. He moved to peer into the crib, his eyes teary and wide with wonder as he took his first proper look at the baby formerly known as Little Bear.

'Oh, she is perfect,' he breathed. 'Absolutely perfect, just like her mum.'  
He turned to flash Assumpta a teary smile over his shoulder.  
'Can I... Can I pick her up?'  
'Peter,' Assumpta laughed, 'you don't have to ask. She's your daughter.'  
'My daughter...'

Peter scooped up the little girl in his arms, setting Assumpta's weary heart aglow. Few men, she suspected, could honestly love another man's child as their own. But if there was one man who could, Peter Clifford was he. There was enough love in that man to light the sky, and he gave it all to them... to Assumpta and her baby girl.

Peter carefully perched on the bed beside Assumpta. The little girl wriggled an arm out of her blanket, and reached up into the air.  
'Oh, look,' exclaimed Assumpta in a whisper, 'she's saying hi to her daddy.'  
'Hi, little one,' Peter responded, grinning from ear to ear.  
He gently caught the baby's tiny hand in his own, inspecting the pink hospital bracelet the staff had given her.

Trinity Caitlin Clifford  
16/07/1999  
6lb 7oz

Peter smiled. One of the many things he'd come to love about the Irish was that they rarely named their children on a whim. The names were always meaningful; they always had a reason. Trinity was named for the three parents who loved her, and for the God who'd helped them through; and, of course, for Leo's sister.

Assumpta watched the two great loves of her life with tremendous joy and no small amount of pride. But she was also conscious that a member of her little family was missing.  
'Is Leo here?' she asked Peter carefully.  
'Uh, yeah,' he replied, sounding somewhat pained, 'He arrived a couple of hours ago. He's in the waiting room.'  
Assumpta nodded. 'Do you think you could go and fetch him?'  
'Okay,' said Peter, trying his best to sound enthusiastic.  
He cautiously transferred Trinity into Assumpta's arms, and gave each of them a kiss on the head before leaving the room.

Leo entered a couple of minutes later, looking simultaneously terrified and eager.  
'Hiya,' Assumpta greeted him.  
'Hey,' he said softly, as though fearful that loud noises might break the baby. He hung back by the door, not quite knowing what to do with himself.  
Assumpta smiled. 'She won't bite you, you know. Not for a few months, anyway.'  
Leo chuckled, visibly relaxing as he approached the bed. His eyes lit up when he looked into the girl's tiny, pink face, and his hand came to cover his mouth in a gesture of awe.  
'This is Trinity, Trinity Caitlin,' Assumpta said. 'Trinity, this is your da.'  
'Nice to meet you, Little Bear,' said Leo as he gingerly touched her cheek. 'Oh, you look like your mammy, thank the Lord.'  
Assumpta laughed. 'You can't possibly know that yet. She was born an hour ago; she looks like a potato.'  
_'Assumpta!'  
_'... A very _cute_ potato.'  
'Well, maybe you look like a cute potato too, and that's why I said it.'  
'Watch it, or I won't let you have a cuddle.'  
'Oh, no, please let me have a cuddle.'  
'Oh, alright.'

* * *

'I think Miss Trinity likes her new wheels,' stated Peter, nodding approvingly.  
'Doesn't she just,' replied Leo, looking down at the little girl, who returned his gaze from her pram.

Trinity had never been so alert as she was on this, her first walk, in the park by the hospital. She'd kept her dark eyes open for longer than ever before, taking in her green surroundings and the relaxed, cheerful faces of Assumpta, Peter and Leo. The day was warm, and Trinity was able to stretch out in her pram without being wrapped. She was looking very pretty in the dress Leo had bought for her, all those months ago – the pink one with the elephant and the balloon. Leo had teared up when he first saw her in it. Big girl that he is.

The three of them had gotten on remarkably well over the last four days, the euphoria of Trinity's arrival hanging like a golden cloud above them. But things weren't always going to be so easy. They all knew that there were some challenges ahead, but they'd face those when the time came. One thing was certain – they all loved that little girl. And they would do what was best for her, every time.

As the path wound back around to the edge of the park, a heavy stone sank in Leo's stomach. It was time for Trinity to make her first journey home, with her mum and dad. And it was time for Leo to go home too. At the end of the twisting path, they all stood staring at one another, each reluctant to make the initial move in the first of many difficult partings. Eventually, Assumpta took Trinity in her arms, silently inviting Leo to say goodbye. Stepping forward, Leo placed an adoring kiss on Trinity's head, and one on Assumpta's cheek. He wrapped his arms around both of them, holding them long enough to make Peter slightly uncomfortable.  
'I love you,' Leo murmured, his voice breaking.  
'We love you too,' Assumpta assured him, smiling through the tears which were blurring her vision.  
Leo then turned his gaze upon Peter, who was standing awkwardly off to the side. His face hardening slightly, Leo held out his hand for Peter to shake.  
'Look after my girls, you English bastard,' he said threateningly, though a niggling smile gave him away.  
'I will, Leo,' said Peter seriously, and Leo didn't doubt him.  
After giving Trinity one more kiss and a doting smile, Leo dragged himself away toward the hospital car park.

As Assumpta watched Leo walk away, Peter wrapped an arm around her waist and smiled down at Trinity, asleep in her mother's arms.  
'Well, you English bastard,' said Assumpta warmly when Leo faded from view, 'Are you taking us home or what?'  
Peter tenderly kissed her hair - his silent "I love you".  
'You bet.'

**The End**

**Almost...**


	18. Epilogue

_Pleeeease don't leave without reviewing! I'd love to know who stuck with me, and what you thought :) Just a teeny, tiny review. It's such a little thing... Go on, make my day ;)_

**Epilogue**

_**Three years later...**_

Leo practically had to jog down the corridor in order to keep up with the auburn curls bouncing ahead of him. When the little girl reached her destination, she turned back to shoot her father an impatient look, her hands on her hips. Smiling to himself, Leo was struck for the millionth time by Trinity's resemblance to her mother. With her creamy white skin, perfect round face and dark sparkling eyes, she looked exactly like a tiny Assumpta, only with Leo's tighter curls. And apparently personalities could be inherited too. Leo had never met anyone like Assumpta, until Trinity. She knew what she wanted and how to get it, especially from Peter and Leo, and heaven help them if they didn't do as they were told! And this was at three years old. Leo could only imagine what she'd be like when she grew up. She'd break some hearts, that much was certain.

Finally catching up with Trinity, Leo took her hand and led her into the shop. They wandered over to the large display of balloons, and Trinity's eyes widened.  
'Which balloon will you choose, pet?'  
'Ummm...' She brought a thoughtful finger to her chin as she pondered the selection. 'The giraffe!'  
'How did I know you were going to choose the giraffe?'  
'Because giraffes are my favourite, Da!'  
'Ahh, that must be it.'

As they continued down the corridor, Trinity clutching the balloon's sting in her fist, Leo was sharply reminded of the last time he'd been in this building... of a tiny, sweet baby in a pink elephant dress. How quickly the time had passed. He reached out to ruffle her wild hair as they walked.  
_'Don't!'  
_'Okay, okay... Here we are, room 409.' He gently turned the handle, and held the door open for Trinity. 'Go on in, pet. I'll wait here for now.'

Trinity's purple buckled shoes echoed on the hard floor as she stepped into the room. Peter's head whipped around, and he jumped up from his chair by the bed.  
'Hey, Princess!' he beamed, crouching down and opening his arms to her.  
'Daddy!' she squealed as she ran to him.  
He stood up with her in his arms, and she grinned. She loved to be so high off the floor. Peter looked at the balloon in Trinity's hand and gasped.  
'Is that balloon for me?!' he said hopefully.  
'No!' Trinity giggled.  
'Oh,' Peter said with a pout. 'Then, who's it for?'  
'The _baby,_ you silly Daddy!'  
'Ohhh, the _baby._ Well, isn't he lucky to have such a nice big sister?'  
Trinity nodded.  
'Would you like to meet him, then?'  
Another, more enthusiastic nod.  
Peter carried his daughter over to the bed, where Assumpta sat holding a fair haired little blue bundle. He carefully placed Trinity on the bed next to them.  
'Hiya, Trin,' said Assumpta.  
'Hi, Mammy.'  
'Do you know who this is?'  
'Who?'  
'This is your baby brother. His name is Malachy Joseph.'  
Peter was very proud of the name; he'd chosen it all by himself... Well, chosen it from a shortlist given to him by Assumpta. Malachy was named for Assumpta's father, the only person besides Peter to ever to call her an angel. And Joseph, of course, for the church under whose steeple their love was forged, in the village they both called home.  
'Can you say hi to Malachy?' Assumpta prompted.  
'Hi, Macky,' said Trinity dutifully, holding out her hand to offer him the balloon.  
Assumpta and Peter looked at one another and smiled, Peter's eyes brimming with proud, happy tears.  
'Do you like your brother?' Assumpta asked her little girl as Peter took the balloon and tied its string to Malachy's crib.  
'Yes, I think so.'  
'Would you like to give him a kiss?'  
Trinity softly placed a kiss on the baby's cheek, and Peter had to reach for the tissues. How had he ever thought he could survive as a priest? How had he ever thought he could live without this?  
Assumpta placed her own kiss on Trinity's head, and asked, 'Where's your Da?'  
'He's outside.'  
'Oh. Well, do you think he'd like to meet Malachy?'  
Trinity nodded.  
'Would you like to go and fetch him, then?'

Trinity clambered down from the bed and trotted over to the door, returning seconds later, dragging Leo by the hand.  
'Congratulations,' Leo said, glancing from Peter to Assumpta.  
'Thanks,' they said in unison.  
'Did you two enjoy your day together yesterday?' Assumpta asked.  
'Oh yes,' answered Trinity keenly. 'We had chips for lunch _and_ tea!'  
'Did you now?' Assumpta raised her eyebrows at Leo.  
'_Secret_ chips, Trinity,' said Leo, glancing sideways at the little girl, '_Secret_ chips.'  
Assumpta laughed. 'Well, I guess it's okay, just this once.'  
Leo looked relieved, and stepped forward to take a closer look at the baby.  
'Not a bad looking kid,' he stated appraisingly. 'Much bigger than Trin was.'  
'Yes, I noticed that also,' said Assumpta pointedly, narrowing her eyes at Peter, who shrugged apologetically.  
'Anyway,' said Leo, 'I should get going... I'm supposed to meet Yvonne for lunch.'  
'Oh,' said Assumpta teasingly, 'well, say hi to _Yvonne_ for us, won't you?'  
'I will. You take care. I'll see you in two weeks, Trinny.' He bent down to give Trinity a tight squeeze. 'Love you.'  
'Love you, Da.'  
'Bye.'  
'Bye.'

When the door swang closed behind Leo, Peter sat down beside his wife and son on the bed, and lifted his little girl onto his knee. With one arm around Assumpta, and the other around Trinity, he closed his eyes and whispered, 'I love you all so very, very much.'  
'We love you too, Daddy,' said Trinity, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.  
Opening his eyes, Peter turned them on Assumpta. She was staring at her husband with that faraway look she always got when she was feeling particularly affectionate.  
'Who would've thought, eh?' she said softly. 'Who would've thought that we'd be here today, Peter? Married, with two beautiful kids.'  
He smiled his crooked smile, bringing his forehead to rest against hers.  
'I am so blessed to have you, Peter... You wonderful, wonderful man.'

Their hearts spilling over with emotion, their babies in their arms, Peter and Assumpta kissed. And the firecrackers were as strong as ever.


End file.
